


Secrets Whispered In The Dark

by Beserk



Series: The Anthony and Simon Saga [1]
Category: Bridgerton (TV), Bridgerton Series - Julia Quinn
Genre: Bisexual Male Character, Bridgerton Family Feels, Established Relationship, F/M, Family Feels, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Open Relationships, Period-Typical Homophobia, Secret Relationship, They Really Are A Great Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-14 20:41:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28551783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beserk/pseuds/Beserk
Summary: He did not want them to meet like this again, after so long away from each other’s side. He had wanted them to be on their own, where they need not dawn the masks they must wear in society."So. You're back."
Relationships: Daphne Bridgerton/Friedrich Wilhelm Ludwig von Preußen (1794-1863) | Prince Frederick of Prussia, Simon Basset & Daphne Bridgerton, Simon Basset/Anthony Bridgerton
Series: The Anthony and Simon Saga [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2117460
Comments: 40
Kudos: 227





	1. Chapter 1

Simon escapes the party a few minutes after he meets Anthony's younger sister. What a bloody fool he is. He should have considered that of all those fucking sisters, at least one would be of marriageable age, and of course Anthony would be accompanying her. He was a loving and responsible brother. 

He did not want them to meet like this again, after so long away from each other’s side. He had wanted them to be on their own, where they need not dawn the masks they must wear in society. 

"So. You're back." 

Simon looks up at the heavens for a moment before forcing himself to turn around. There he is, the candles illuminating him as though he were an angel from above. He stands tall and proud, but Simon can see the thundering look in his eyes. 

He knows that look, he had seen it before. It is the look of a man afraid, a man who does not believe he can achieve what he wishes for, in the bedroom and outside of it. It is a look that makes Simon want to sprint forward and take the man into his arms, calm him and promise him that while Simon can do nothing to change the world they live in, between silk sheets he will have nothing denied him, nothing he might wish for and not possess. 

"Tony-" He reaches out, unable to stop himself, but Anthony moves backwards, automatically. He looks at the mansion and shakes his head. 

No one can see them. This does not stop the fear, Simon knows. He does not feel much of it himself, but Anthony... 

"There is a pond, beyond the trees. None shall see us there," He suggests, then turns and walks away. He does not turn back to see if he is being followed. He does not want to see if he is not. If he is to only have these few seconds of believing he is not alone-well, he will allow himself those moments. 

The pond has been there since Simon was a child. It is known to Lady Danbury's gardeners, who kept the plants from over growing, and Simon himself. Not even Lady Danbury knows of it. Traversing her gardens and lands is not her favourite hobby. Simon had found the lake in one of his childish adventures before he was sent away to school. 

"Do not tell me what you have found," Lady Danbury had said when Simon returned to her that evening, eyes sparkling with pleasure. "Let it be your private place. A gift from me to you." 

He has taken Anthony here, once, when they were home from Oxford during their oh, perhaps third year? he had not told Anthony then what the place meant for him, and he does not think Anthony would remember it. 

Simon comes to a stop in front of the pond after ducking under the tree branches hiding the entrance to the place and looks down at the water. It's too dark to see anything but the inky black of the water. Not even the moon can be seen shining down on it. 

"I remember this place." 

Simon turns, seeing him standing there looking around. 

"You..." Simon shakes his head, finding it hard to fathom. 

"When we were young lads. In our third year of Oxford? We returned home for Christmas and spend some time riding around Lady Danbury's lands. You took me here." 

Simon swallows, "I did. I did not think it would have remained in your memory." 

"Of course it has," Anthony says, sounding offended. "It meant much to you." 

"i didn't tell you that." 

Anthony snorted, "And when have I ever needed you to _tell_ me what is in your heart? If one waited for you to _tell_ them, one would learn nothing of you." 

The words are said bitterly, and Simon realizes they have quickly arrived to the anger that must come in between them. 

"Tony-" 

"You did not tell me you returned," Anthony interrupts. 

"I did not consider that you would be at the party," Simon replies. "I should have-I know. But I would have gone to speak to you privately, you have my word." 

"And what is that worth?" 

Simon flinches backwards, "I would have hoped that you knew that it is worth a lot, to you." 

"How dare you," Anthony sneers, and moves forward so fast that Simon barely has time to prepare before he is being grabbed by his lapels. "You _left_. Abandoned your home and abandoned _me_ for nearly two years. And now you return, and demand my trust?" 

"I know," Simon whispers. He feels his hands are shaking for need to touch. "My love-" 

"Do not call me that," As quickly as he had been grabbed, he is let go. His skin yearns for the lost touch. "You have lost the right.” 

It is fair. He should not have expected anything else. 

His heart is broken by it still. 

"Very well," Simon says. He goes over to the stone bench next to the pond, and says, "But...it is selfish of me, but would you tell me of yourself? How you have been?" 

Anthony watches him suspiciously, and then nods stiffly and goes to sit next to Simon, not as close as Simon would have liked, closer than he had expected. 

"Tell me, first," Anthony demands, "Of where you have been." 

Simon obliges, telling Tony of all his travels, all the places he had been to. Tony listens well, he had always been a rather good listener. He knows how to do it, probably, Simon thinks, as a product of having seven younger siblings. He sits quietly, not interrupting as Simon speaks, but with such intense concentration in his eyes that Simon does not doubt for a moment that he is being listened to. And closely at that. Simon finds himself talking longer than he had intended, and of more then he initially thought he might. He tells Anthony of the two men he had found on the road, and the various women as well. Tells Tony of their various different charms. He does not say that had not quite quenched his thirst, but he does not believe he must. That is the sort of thing that is quite clear between them. 

"And you," Simon finishes. "Tell me how you have been." 

Anthony looks over at the pond and says softly, "My siblings have been well." 

Of course that was the first thing he thinks of. Simon feels adoration flair up in him, suddenly, for this incredible man who harbours such great love for his family. Who sees his own fate tied so deeply with theirs. It is a concept that Simon cannot understand, he who had run to escape his own familiar obligations. 

Except perhaps he can. He remembers their time in Oxford and Eton, when if he were asked- _how are you?_ He thinks that his response would have been- _how is Anthony?_ That was usually the deciding factor. His happiness could not remain should Anthony’s go missing, and Anthony’s pleasure often forced him out of his own despairs. 

“Tell me of them, then.” 

He listens to the various adventures of the many Bridgerton siblings, allowing it to loll him into a near sleep. Eventually the pouring of words die down and Anthony says, "That is all I can think of." 

Simon nods. They sit in silence for a few moments and then Simon says, "I am sorry." 

He feels Anthony's eyes sending daggers into his soul, "For?" 

"I suppose...not returning sooner. Being gone for so very long." 

He had to leave, he thinks Anthony knows that. London was suffocating him with her expectations and desires. More than anything, he had needed a break from the need to hide so very much. In the small towns where he had stayed, the affairs of one's bedroom were less carefully policed. 

He could have returned sooner, though. And Anthony is right to have expected that. 

"Before I left," Simon says. "You told me you could not take me to your bed anymore. What was there for me here?" 

"Me," Anthony snaps. "Or is my friendship not worthy? was it just-" 

" _No_ ," Simon says sharply. "You must know that." 

What he and Anthony share started before they first fumbled into bed together, and is rooted in realms deeper than those of the flesh. They became closer when that was added to their friendship, of course. But to suggest that with it gone Simon would not think there was anything worth salvaging... 

Frankly, Simon is slightly insulted that Tony would even suggest it. 

"You know that isn't true, Anthony. That is not what I meant. But I thought...you might want to keep far from me for some time after you made that decision. And if you did not want me around you, then London could not have been survived." 

Anthony is quiet. 

"And you would not have wanted me around you, would you have?" 

Anthony shook his head, "Not for some time. But not for two bloody years, Si." 

"I know. I know," Simon rubs his face. "And you are right." 

"Well, that is not a surprise." 

The words draw a surprised laughter out of Simon. He grins at Anthony, and gets a small smile back before the man stands up. 

"We must return to the party." 

“Yes,” Simon clears his throat and stands up, straightening his coats. “Will I... see you soon?” 

“Why would you not? Are we not friends?” 

Simon opens his mouth, but before he can answer Anthony is gone. 

* 

Simon is woken up the next morning when the rough and strong hand of his butler hit his shoulder and shook hard. 

It throws him right out of the rather pleasant dream he had been having. The dream quickly slips away into the dark reaches of his mind where he cannot reach it once more. Shame, it had been a pleasant dream. Very odd. Something about a ship and horses...and Anthony of course. 

"Your Grace," The butler says in his booming voice. 

"Wha'?" Simon blinks, looking around wildly. 

"The Viscount Bridgerton is here," The butler says severely. 

"Bloody hell," Simon throws his sheets off and grabs the shirt that's been laid out for him. He does not have time for the valet to come and dress him. "Where is he? How is he?" 

"In the parlour. Rather...agitated, your Grace." 

Agitated. Simon rubs a hand over his face, unsure of what to make of that. Agitated could mean slightly upset, or it could mean having a bloody meltdown. 

"Who else saw him?" 

"Myself and the footman who opened the door. He was wise enough to come straight to me." 

"Is he a new one?" 

"One of those who were here before you departed, your Grace. His silence can be assured." 

"Assure it, then," Simon snaps, and rushes to the parlour.

 _Agitated_ turns out to be sitting on a chair, hands covering a face. Simon can scent the drink on the other man as soon as he walks into the room, and closes the door behind him, leaving him and Anthony alone. 

He leans down next to Anthony, placing a hand on his head, burrowing his fingers into the black hair that he loves so dearly. 

"My love?" He cannot find it in him to call the man by any other title. Not when he is like this, drowned in a liquid meant to erase the need to think and remember. A man who should need that is the sort of man who needs to be told he is loved. 

"I could not sleep," Anthony rasps out. "My sister's suitors should be coming to her in an hour or so, and I should be there, but I have yet to return home, _because I could not sleep_." 

"How much did you drink?" Simon asks gently. 

“I thought I could free myself of this sin. This sin that runs so deep within me. I thought if I took mistresses it would weaken my desire-but it did not work. I fear I am a sinner, and that there is nothing to-” 

“Anthony!” Simon snaps sharply. “How much have you drunk?” 

Anthony shrugs and raises his head slightly, and Simon nearly recoils backwards. His eyes are blood-shot and blown out, his face covered in dried sweat. But more than that, he can see the desperation and fury in the man's eyes. 

"Your mother will watch over Eloise-" 

"Daphne." 

"Daphne, forgive me," There are so many of those girls, but Anthony does not take it well when Simon mistakes one for the other. "As I say, the Dowager Viscountess will have the young lady well in hand." 

Anthony snorts, an ugly sound, "She danced with many men yesterday, I am told. None of them are worthy of her." 

Simon smiles, "I am sure. Now, come with me." 

"Why?" 

"Well," Simon stands up and hoists Anthony up with him, draping him over his shoulder to keep him upright. "You are an invalid, and I must care for you." 

"I need no one to care for me," Anthony replies stubbornly, digging his feet in, making it rather difficult for Simon to move him. 

Simon turns him slightly so they can look one another in the eye. The first-born son of a Viscount, elder brother of seven, a Viscount now in his own right. And now intrusted with shepherding his sister into matrimony. He has spent his entire life being prepared for shouldering burdens. His entire life shouldering them in his heart. 

He does not accept the need for a helping hand easily. 

"Well, allow me to care for you still, for my own peace of heart?" Simon suggests gently. 

Anthony blinks at him for a moment and then allows his head to collapse on Simon's shoulder, "Do what you will, then." 

"My thanks." 

He takes Anthony carefully through the hallways, which are eerily silent in thier lack of servants. Probably the work of his butler. Simon is thankful for the peace and quiet the silence allows. He manages to get Tony into his rooms without being seen and carefully places him on one of his chairs. He calls for his butler and has water brought to the rooms, both for a bath and for drinking. Anthony seems nearly asleep by the time the bath is ready, and offers no resistance when Anthony urges him into drinking a near absorb amount of the water. 

Simon then carefully undresses him (not looking down, never looking down under the chest. He will not take what is not offered freely) and places him in the warm and scented water. His eyes close when he sinks in, and he murmurs softly when Simon carefully begins to wash him. It is strange, to see and touch his naked flesh again. He is not much changed, and Simon can trace every inch of his skin in his mind's eye, knows where every birthmark and scar lay, and where said scars had come from. 

Simon cleans Tony's neck and chest (there is the burn caused by Benedict when he accidently pushed his older brother into the coals) and arms (there is the long white scar that Tony got at their first year in Oxford, when they went riding and attempted to gallop up a mountain slope. The horse had faltered, fallen, and Anthony had fallen down with him. When Simon had rushed to him and pulled him up the boy had asked, dazed, "Is the horse safe?"), and gentles his head down so he can wash his hair (he had never been able to tame his hair quite as well as he would have liked, back in Oxford. There always seemed to be at least one stray lock escaping). 

"Tony?" Simon whispers after Anthony's body is washed. Or at least the top part of it. He is not...adventuring further down. 

Anthony's eyes open, already looking much more aware, and he pushes Simon away, "I should not have come here." 

"You are always welcome," Simon tries, sitting down on the ground and hugging his legs. 

"Turn around," Anthony commands. "Now, Hastings." 

"Bloody hell, do not call me that," Simon groans as he obeys. It had been hard enough to hear the name at the party, but here, where they are alone? He cannot stand it. 

Simon hears Anthony getting out of the bath and drying himself, and forces himself to stay in place and not turn around. After a few minutes he hears pants being pulled on and feels it is safe to turn. 

Anthony is just putting on his shirt, pushing his wet hair out of his eyes as he does so. 

"Thank you," He says suddenly. "I apologize for the inconvenience-" 

"You know you are never an inconvenience." 

They stare at one another for a moment, intently, and then Tony nods, "Yes. Well." 

"Would you like to break your fast with me?" 

"No. Thank you," Tony clears his throat. "I must return home. See if I make it in time to be present for any of the gentlemen paying court to my sister." 

Simon rather doubts it. He saw the way the men looked at Daphne the night before. He is sure all the gentlemen will be there as early in the morning as they can, each wanting to show themselves the most attentive by arriving first. 

"I wish you luck with that," He says, deciding not to tell Anthony any of that. 

“I am sure I will need it, "Anthony says, voice vague, and then closes his eyes. “It did not work, you know.” 

“What did not work?” 

“When I told you that I would not...see you again, it was in an attempt to rid myself of a sin that has followed me since my youth. But I could not do it. The mistresses I took, I could not...preform. And it did nothing to distract me from my true need. It seems I am doomed to be dammed to Hell.” 

Simon shakes his head, “I do not believe that we are doomed. I do not believe that God would doom us for love.” 

“I suppose it does not matter, now,” Anthony says, turning to the window. “I was in sorrow, and I came to you. My first and only desire was to be once again in your presence. My mind cannot escape you, no matter my wish to do so. If I am to be doomed by my desires, I will at least receive some respite with them in this life.” 

Simon swallows, afraid to allow his hopes to rise. 

"The apartment, the one I have on the other side of town," Anthony continues. "I still keep it, you know." 

"For-for who, Tony?" 

"Not for anyone," Anthony replies, not turning to look at him. "For myself, I presume. My mother thinks I keep a mistress." 

Smiling, Simon says, "I thought you did, once. That opera singer?" 

He wonders if it is strange, that he only feels the slightest pang of jealousy at the thought of Anthony keeping a mistress. But then again he himself has lain with women and men (unlike Anthony, he can find pleasure in both) all across the bloody country. He supposes it is because he is not afraid, even a little, that another might achieve the sort of hold he has on Anthony's heart. Bodies are bodies, and fucking is fucking. In fact, he rather thinks he would like it if Anthony could find pleasure with his mistresses. Perhaps then his distress would lessen. 

"Hmm, Sienna, yes. We meet there sometimes," Anthony walks over to Simon and places a finger under his chin. "But she does not stay, you know. None of them ever stay. Will you come?" 

Simon smiles, unable to hold back his brimming joy, "Whenever you require me." 

"Yes," Anthony draws Simon up. "You live to obey my commands, do you not?" 

Snorting, Simon grabs Anthony's shirt and pulls him close, until the tips of their noses brush, "May I make one request of my own, Viscount?" 

"And what might that be?" Anthony whispers, cupping the back of Simon's neck with his warm, strong hands. 

"Shave. I am not a fan of your sideburns." 

He laughs as Anthony smacks him on the head, but then the laughter dies when Anthony’s expression sobers. They press their foreheads together, breathing in the same air, and then Simon moves forward gently, slowly, and takes Anthony’s lips with his own. 

The kiss is soft, and gentle and sweet, and Simon is content to allow it to remain that way. In fact, he rather suspects he would be happy to remain here for days and days, doing nothing but gently kissing Anthony. 

So when Anthony pushes away, he lets out an involuntary whine of discomfort, but the sound die in his throat as Anthony envelopes him in an embrace. He holds Anthony back and whispers, “I’ve missed you. I have missed you so.” 

“And I you,” Anthony whispers back. “But you have returned now.” 

“Yes,” Simon closes his eyes and buries himself deep in Anthony’s shoulder. “And shall never leave again.” 


	2. Chapter 2

"You know, I do suppose if it were not for an overzealous mother at every corner, this time of year in the city would not be so very dreadful." 

Anthony leans backwards on his own chair, and Simon follows the long line of his body with his eyes. He looks well, today (he'd capitulated to Simon's one request and shaved), and much calmer then he had before. Apparently, Daphne had received many callers. The Dowager had handed her son a long list of those suitors that she considered appropriate. When Simon had arrived at the club, he had found the Viscount pouring over those lists, scratching off nearly every name for not being _even worth considering, what was Mother thinking?._

"You're this Season's most eligible bachelor," Anthony says. "You cannot blame the mamas for wanting the best for their daughters." 

"Oh, I very much can, and I do," Simon argues. "I have made my intentions quite clear. I will not marry-" 

"I have told you stating that fact so clear would be a foolish endeavour. You have made it into a bloody _challenge_ , Hastings!" 

"Stop calling me that," Simon snaps. "That was my father's name, never mine." 

"I'm afraid it is yours, now," Anthony says, rather gently. 

Not wanting to discuss the matter further, Simon says, "In any case, what of you?" 

"What of me?" 

"You are the firstborn Bridgerton of the a firstborn Bridgerton, nine times over," Simon recites, and Anthony rolls his eyes. "You are rather expected to sire an heir yourself." 

"Stop," Anthony groans. "You sound as though you were my _mother_." 

Simon grins. 

"But I'm in precession of something that you are not," Anthony tells him with gusto, toasting him. "Brothers." 

"Hmm," Simon leans back on his chair. "My line ends with me. Yours will not." 

"I find it hard to believe that of my three brothers, none of them shall have a son. If I do not marry, then when I die, Benedict shall take my title and responsibilities. And when you?" 

Simon smiles smugly, "Oh, my father would perish once more if he could hear us. No third Duke of Hastings of this line. The monarchy would have to find another exotic attraction to take the title." 

* 

Simon slams his way into Lady Danbury's parlour, ignoring the agitated servants scurrying after him in an attempt to stop him. "Did you accept an invitation in my name to the Bridgerton household?" 

Lady Danbury raises an eyebrow from where she is seated by the window, "What sort of behaviour is this, for a duke? I do believe I have raised you better than this...barbaric display." 

"Barbaric," Simon shakes his head, throwing the invitation on the table. "Why did you do this? What are you trying to achieve?" 

Lady Danbury drops the pamphlet she was holding (another bloody Lady Whistledown, Simon suspects) and motions Simon to the seat in front of her, "Sit. Let us talk." 

Simon obeys, suspicious. 

"Miss Bridgerton is a good match. As this Season's incomparable she is the best suited for a duke. And as you are already familiar with her family-" 

"I am not marrying Miss Bridgerton," Simon says flatly. 

Lady Danbury straightens, "And who, pray tell, would be better? She cares very deeply for her brother, you know. I can think of no other wife who might-" 

"Stop. Lady Danbury, stop," Simon raises a hand, finding, to his shock, that it is shaking slightly. They sit in silence for a moment and then he asks, "This plan was concocted with the Dowager Viscountess?" 

"Yes," Lady Danbury says calmly, but before Simon's fear can overtake him, she adds, "Not about-well. All she knows is that she wishes to find a suitable match for her daughter, and we had agreed between us that this would be a rather charming solution." 

Simon shakes his head, "As I understand it, Miss Bridgerton is not lacking in suitors." 

"Oh, she is not. But as her brother is attempting now to scare each and every one of them away, she might need the assistance." 

Simon smiles to himself. Oh, Tony. 

"Go to the dinner," Lady Danbury demands. "It would be quite rude for you not to, now." 

"Yes," Simon gives her what he hopes is a withering look (it doesn't seem as though it works). "Now I must." 

* 

Dinner is an extremely odd affair. Being seated in one long table with several young children is odd enough-Simon cannot say he's ever had a similar experience in his life (that is, if you do not count his school days, when he was one of those children). But it is even stranger when he considers that he already knows so very much about each and every one of them. He might not always remember their names or their positions in the family (sometimes he needs to stop for a moment and go through the alphabet just to make sure he has everything right. God bless the Dowager and late Viscount for naming their children so neatly), but he knows that Francesca was so sick in her first year that the family feared for her survival, and that Gregory once decided that he would be a pirate when he grew up and so put an eyepatch on and refused to take it off for nearly a week, which caused him to bump into more than one wall. He knows about the time Eloise put a rat in her sister Daphne's bed when the two were quarrelling, and that Benedict had once fell of his horse so he landed ass first on Colin's face, cracking his nose. 

He knows far too much about these strangers to feel comfortable. And he also knows nothing of them. He's always known that Anthony's love for his family knows no bounds. It was clear by the way he talked about them, and how often he did so, and by the way he had looked when he announced Gregory’s birth and his father’s death. 

But seeing it is different. Anthony is part of them, a part of a unit that is separate from the rest of the world. While Anthony scolds his youngest brother's behaviour when they boy tries to hit his sister under the table, and laughs gently at some private joke that Eloise tells him, one that Simon cannot understand, he feels rather small. This is a world that Anthony inhabits, but not Simon. At Eton they were together, at Oxford they were together. There were lovers they did not share, and not always told one another of their experiences. There were the two years spend apart, and many months in between meetings when they did not see one another. Bu none of those things had mattered to who they both were. This matters. Anthony's family matters so very much, and Simon is not part of it. 

"All of you at one table, even the children," Simon notes to the Dowager, finding it rather odd. 

"Well, I realize it may be unfashionable, but we like each other," The Dowager chuckles, looking out at her brood with pride and love. 

Simon looks down at his plate. He is glad Tony had this, growing up, this overwhelming love and acceptance, but he cannot help but feel the bitterest of jealousies infesting his soul. 

"You should join us more often, your Grace," The Dowager suggests. "Perhaps when we travel to our country seat. You would be most welcome." 

Simon is saved from having to answer by Hyacinth yelping at her brother. He goes back to eating in silence for a bit, trying to parse out the odd feeling within him. He imagines going to Aubrey hall with the Bridgertons. Laying in a guest room, trying to listen to the wind, to see if he might hear Anthony's breathing from another room, stealing moments alone between assisting Anthony with tending to his lands and farmers. 

Seeing for days on days the way they are so very comfortable when they are together. Seeing what family can be, what he perhaps would have had had his mother not perished. He does not know if he could stand it. 

* 

What was he thinking. 

Probably, that he wanted the many mamas off his bloody back. Probably that seeing the young girl standing there over the body of a man who believed he had the right to her because he was a man and she a woman had brought out a fury in him that he had only ever experienced a few times in the past. Probably that for a moment, with her eyes wide with fear, she had reminded him of himself, when he had first been send away from school, so very lost in the world. Probably because she was drowning in a sea of men who wanted her body and hand and did not understand where to turn to (a mama who wanted her to court a Duke she disliked, a brother who pushes each man away). Probably because when he had been this lost, he had someone to lean against, and she deserved no less. 

She had needed help, and so had he (he couldn't stand it, all the women hovering over him, trying to bat thier eyelashes in the precise right way to attract his attention), and so they could help one another. 

But it was going to make Anthony...so very furious. 

Simon groans and buries his head in the pillow. 

* 

Simon can barely hear the door to the training room open due to the ringing in his ears (he'd forgotten how merciless Will is in the boxing ring), so he's a bit surprised when he sees Anthony stomping towards the ring. 

"Hastings!" Anthony growls, and the sounds sends _something_ down to Simon's cock. "I need a word." 

"Have as many as you wish, Bridgerton," Simon spares him a look before attempting to punch Will again. 

"You'll come down here or must I come up there?" 

Simon gives Will a look, and the man shrugs and puts down his fists, turning to Anthony. 

"Viscount," Will grins. "How are you?" 

"Quite well, Mr. Mondrich, thank you," Anthony says, suddenly the polite and gracious noble. "You and Alice? The children?" 

"As good as ever," Will smirks up at Simon. "Though I suspect the one up there won't be quite as well soon enough." 

Simon gives Will what he hopes is a sufficiently withering look as he jumps down and pats Anthony's back. Anthony raises himself up and immediately attempts to punch Simon. 

It's a very bad punch. 

"You haven't been practicing much during my absence, have you?" Simon chides, giving Will, who is leaning back on the wall looking as though he's awaiting an exciting show, a stern look. "How often does he come to train?" 

"He's come perhaps four times since you were gone." 

"Not good, Tony," Simon shakes his head, ducking and laughing when Anthony attempts another rather pathetic punch. "So, what seems to be so urgent?" 

"I would like to know what was going through your head last night and this morning." 

Yes, that was expected. 

"Are you courting my sister?" 

"Should I not be courting your sister?" 

"Of course not," Anthony snaps. "And you are _not_ courting my sister. What manner of fool do you take me for?" 

"Then why ask?" 

"I wanted to see what you'd say," Anthony manages to duck out of the way of a punch. 

"Very good," Simon praises, hands hovering in the air in preparation. 

"Si," Anthony says quietly, placing his hands gently on Simon's. "She's my sister." 

And then he punches him in the face. Which gets an amused laughter out of Will, so at least someone is enjoying himself. 

"She's not a toy to be played with," Anthony growls, punching Simon in the stomach again. 

"That was very good, my Lord!" Will cries from the side-lines. “Punch him again!” 

"Shut up," Both Simon and Anthony say at the same time. But Anthony turns to speak, and Simon uses the half a moment of distraction to pounce on him, throwing him off his feet. They land on the hard floor, Simon above Anthony, holding him in place, both panting. 

"I know you won't marry her, so I do not know what it is you're attempting to do here," Anthony says quietly. "And if you are doing this to illicit some sort of rise out of me..." 

Simon shakes his head, "I am not that cruel." 

"Then _what_ are you attempting?" 

"I cannot tell you," Simon says, and as Anthony responds by attempting to squirm away he tightens his hold on him. "Listen, listen! I gave my word to your sister that I would tell no one, not a soul. Would you have me break my word to a lady?" 

Anthony stops struggling, "So this is Daphne's scheme?" 

"Well. It was my idea to begin with, but she has laid claim to it and leads the way." 

"Ah," Anthony's eyes sparkle. "Very well, I believe I understand." 

"Do you?" 

"Yes," Anthony pats Simon's head. "Now get off me. Will's still here." 

Will does not care much. Other than Lady Danbury, and Anthony's second brother, he is the only living soul who knows of Simon and Anthony. His brother, long dead to cruel men, was of the same sort. But Anthony does not approve of physical displays of affection in public. Or in displays of affection that can be read as anything but those between good friends in public. 

So he allows Anthony to stand up and take his leave. 

* 

"I figured it out," Anthony says, in the moment of quiet they have together at yet another ball. Daphne had been swept away to dance with other men, and Simon and Anthony watch her glide elegantly down the floor. 

"Did you?" Simon leans against the wall. "It took you nearly two days, I'm disappointed." 

Anthony raises an eyebrow, "Have I really been so terrible, that my sister felt this rouse was needed to secure herself a match?" 

"Yes," Simon says bluntly. "You succeeded in scaring all of her suitors off. They're all back now, are they not?" 

Anthony runs a hand through his hair, "And I have learned my lesson. I shall allow my mother to lead the way in this endeavour." 

"Very wise, I think." 

* 

"My sister has a bloody royal suitor, what has happened to the world." 

Simon grins, staring at his mother's favourite painting. The art gallery is rather unimpressive, in his opinion, but he was never one for art. As far as he is concerned, it is pleasant rooms to stand and talk about in. 

"You're welcome," He says smugly. 

"Oh?" Anthony turns to look at him. "You think this is your doing?" 

"Not entirely, of course," Simon demurs. "But while you were scaring away her every suitor, _I_ helped to keep her in front of the pack." 

Anthony scowls, "What was I meant to do? They were all-" 

"Unworthy of your sister, yes, yes, I know. But a prince is not, I think?" Simon folds his arms. "There are those who will say _she_ is unworthy of _him_. She is noble, he is royalty." 

"Yes, she will have a difficult time dealing with all the princesses who feel she has taken their chance," Anthony nods. "But the queen wants her nephew married to an Englishwoman, and her voice seems to be a very important one to the Prince." 

Simon bumps his elbow against Anthony's arm, "She has done well. He seems a kind man." 

"He does, yes. I think he will be good for her," Anthony takes a deep breath. "When we walked in, my mother took it upon herself to point out some debutantes she believes are rather accomplished." 

Simon swallows, "If you need to marry, Tony, you know you will have my support." He turns to look at him, "You will have me by your side always." 

Anthony just shakes his head, looking troubled. 

* 

Simon walks with Lady Danbury by the lake. He wonders how he managed to get himself dragged into yet another event. Now that Miss Bridgerton is enamoured by the prince and he by her, Simon is no longer necessary for her plans. He should be staying far, far away from the vicious mamas. 

Yet here he is. He had lain in bed that morning, before coming, and thought of Daphne being courted by the prince. He had found himself thinking that he would rather be there, to keep an eye on her and the prince. She does not need him, she had three older brothers for that position. Still, he feels much calmer now, that he is there to watch the courtship advance. Simon has grown quite fond of the young lady. He thinks he would even add her to his rather short list of friends (behind Anthony, Lady Danbury, and Will). 

"Dowager Viscountess, Miss Bridgerton," Lady Danbury greets, and Simon turns to see Anthony's mother and eldest sister walking towards them. Daphne looks beautiful, radiant really. It's the happiness in her eyes, he thinks. 

"Oh, Lady Danbury, your Grace, it is so good to see you," The Dowager smiles charmingly. "We are just taking a walk around while the Prince does his duties by the other ladies," The hidden smirk in her voice makes it clear that these duties are not done by choice, and the prince would much rather hover around the young Bridgerton lady all the hours of the picnic. 

"Well, then let me take his place, just this once?" Simon offers his arm to Daphne. "Shall we take a walk?" 

"I should be delighted," Daphne smiles gently and the four begin their walk, first the elder women and then the younger pair. 

Simon looks at Daphne as she smiles around brightly, and says gently, "You seem happy." 

Daphne turns her stunning smile at him, "I am, your Grace. I feel...as though my heart were filled with stars. Forgive me, I must sound ridiculous." 

"Not at all," Simon says, shaking his head. From the corner of his eyes he can see Anthony throwing a ball for his youngest brother to catch. "I think it is wise to know what is in your heart." 

Daphne's smile dims just a bit, but she seems more thoughtful then lacking in joy. 

"Well," She takes his arm, "Tell me a story while we walk." 

"A story?" Simon chuckles. "Am I here for your entertainment, madam?" 

"Of course, or would you rather I send you back to the waiting hands of the mamas?" 

Simon raises an eyebrow, amused, "You have me at your mercy, Miss Bridgerton. What shall I tell you about?" 

"Hmm," Daphne tilts her head. "Tell me a story of my brother. Of your days at school, perhaps?" 

Well, Simon is capable of talking of Anthony for days at an end. 

"Very well, let me tell you of an adventure we went through when we were in our fifteenth year. I may have suggested to your brother that he was not strong enough to wrangle a farm animal. He had just been defeated by me in the boxing ring. Your brother elected to accept the challenge I had not realized I was issuing." 

Daphne's eyes widened, "What did he do? Did he go visit a farm to try and wrangle an animal there?" 

"That would have been a much more logical solution, yes," Simon agrees. "But he did not. He borrowed a goat from a nearby farm-" 

"He did _what_?" Daphne places a hand on her mouth. "Good Lord." 

"And you'd never guess where he decided to bring the animal," Simon says. 

"Oh...the dining hall perhaps...?" 

"Our rooms." 

" _No_ ," Daphne gasps. "But wasn't the room full of your studies? Your books and quills? Was that not dangerous for those?" 

"He knew this, of course," Simon thinks for a moment. "Or perhaps not. I do not think he quite knows how...goats work." 

"So Anthony Bridgerton, serious man that he is," Daphne says slowly, and Anthony chuckles. "Let a farm animal into your dormitory?" 

"Aha." 

Daphne shook his head, "Why ever would you put up with such pranks?" 

"He was my friend," He had been only that, back then. "Who do you think helped your brother get the animal back out?" 

Daphne giggles, "Of course it was you." 

"And a serious operation it was, I can assure you." 

Daphne smiles at him and says calmly, "My mother told me something curious the other day." 

"Mm?" 

"That one should marry one's dearest friend." 

"Are you suggesting I marry your brother?" Simon asks in a joking tone, though the thought causes something heavy to settle in his chest. 

"Yes." 

Simon freezes, and turns to look at Daphne. She has stopped walking, and gives him a small, reassuring smile before resuming. Stunned, Simon follows. 

"Or at least, if you could, it would be rather nice, would it not?" 

Feeling the prickle of unshed tears, Simon clears his throat, "How did you know?" 

"I know my brother," Daphne replies. "And I see the way his expression changes when he is discussing you. I talked to him a few nights ago, while both of us were unable to sleep. And the way he spoke of you..." 

"Daphne, you mustn't tell a soul," It is improper to call a young lady by her given name in such a fashion, but Simon does not quite care for propriety at the moment. Should she tell... 

"I will not, not even mama," Daphne promises. "I know it is...not allowed." 

"Not legal, Daphne," Simon says gently. "Should we be caught, Anthony and I might face the gallows." 

Daphne swallows, "Would you? That is-for _love_?" 

"For a love not approved of by the world we live in," Simon says as they come to a stop by the bridge. 

"That is wrong," Daphne looks out into the water. "People are speaking of me marrying a man I had just met, and you and my brother, who have known one another for twenty years, cannot be together? You have known one another since you were ten!" 

Simon sighs, "It is the world, Daphne. There is nothing to be done about it but survive." 

Daphne wipes her eyes with her gloved hand and says, "I want my brother to be happy. Mama wants him to be married." 

Simon leans against the bridge, "If he were to marry, he knows he will have my support." 

Daphne squirms slightly, and then says, "I have a question for you." 

Simon nods at her to continue. 

"You and your brother. That is. You have-what I mean is, there are...things. Physical. That bring a couple together," She is blushing red now. 

Whoever thought it was wise to keep young ladies ignorant of the world of the flesh was, as far as Simon was concerned, a bloody idiot. 

"Daphne-" 

"I simply want to know what is awaiting me," Daphne says quickly. "And no one else will tell me anything." 

"Right," Simon sighs as the two go back to strolling. 

"How am I to find a proper husband if I do not even know what I am to be searching for?" 

"Daphne-" 

"Simon. Tell me." 

Anthony is going to kill him if he ever finds out, truly kill him. End his life and bury him under the Themes. 

"Well, to start, what occurs between two men is rather different from what occurs between a man and a woman. Or two women." 

"Two women?" Daphne's eyes widen as thought she had not yet considered that possibility. "Tell me about it, then." 

"Well, it's a continuation of what happens at night," He starts, and it all goes downhill from there. 

If Anthony ever finds out he acquainted his darling sister with the art of self-love, Simon will not only be dead but also ripped into various pieces, each buried under a different pile of dung. 

"And that should help you," He finishes, clearing his throat. "Right, come then." 

"Is that what you do with my brother?" 

"Oh, no, no," Simon shakes his head. "We are _not_ about to discuss what I do with your brother." 

"But it is different, you said. Do men not touch themselves there-?" 

"Daphne, please, I beg of you to cease this line of inquiry," Simon pleads. "I think I might perish if we continue." 

Daphne nods, still looking shocked. 


	3. Chapter 3

He knocks carefully on the door, and waits. His hood is pulled over his head, hiding his face in the unlikely event someone might see him. The apartment is known to belong to the Viscount, at least in some circles (if his mother knows of it, other are sure to as well), and while there are other reasons for a duke to visit a viscount's private abode, there are not so very many of them. The true reason would be suggested eventually.

The door opens a few moments later, and he quickly steps into the room. The door is slammed closed behind and locked.

The sound of the clicking lock in the door releases something within Simon, and he throws his hood off, grabs Anthony and slams his against the wall. 

"Wow there-" Tony starts, but Simon quickly silences him by kissing him fiercely. He is not gentle with it, slipping his tongue into Anthony's mouth and licking his teeth and tongue. His left, open palm lands on the door next to Anthony's head, and he uses the other to grab Anthony's face and tilt it, giving himself an easier access. 

They kiss until they're both panting and shaking, and then, while still kissing Anthony, Simon drops his hand from the door and uses it to begin undoing Anthony's trousers. 

"Si," Anthony gasps into Simon's mouth, and he grins. 

"Hush," He whispers, and then goes down on his knees elegantly. "Allow me to tend to you." 

"Well," Anthony lets out a sharp breath as Simon pushes his trousers and pants down, leaving him bare from the waist down. "If you insist." 

Simon licks his lips at the sight, "Oh, I very much do." 

He very carefully leans forward, until his nose is an inch from the flaccid cock. Then he licks Anthony from base to tip. His eyes close of their own accord as he does so. The taste causes a gush of pleasure to rush through him, right down to his member. Anthony makes a soft moaning sound at the sensation, which only adds to Simon's pleasure. He places both hands on either side of Anthony's hips, keeping him firmly pinned in place as he licks him again and again, getting the member wet and shimmering with Simon's saliva, until he's at half-mast. Once Anthony is there, making little panting and gasping sounds, Simon decides that he cannot keep himself under control anymore, and he ducks down and takes Anthony right into his mouth, the whole member in one swift movement. 

"Oh, fuck!" Anthony yells, and Simon looks up to see his head slamming against the wood of the door. He's panting harshly, and Simon can see his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. 

He sucks, enjoying the heavy sensation of Tony's cock in his mouth, its weight on his tongue. He hollows his cheeks, brings it in, and then pulls out again, so only Anthony's tip is left inside him. Simon licks at it with his tongue, and lets go of Anthony's hips so he can caress his cock, up and down, from the base to the place where it disappears into Simon's mouth. 

"Si," Tony pants, beads of sweat trickling down his spine. "May I-?" 

"Yes," Simon groans, detaching himself form Anthony with a wet _pop._ "God, yes. Fuck my mouth, Tony. Do it." 

The man does not need to be told twice. He grabs Simon's short hair with a hand, and thrusts in. 

Simon closes his eyes again, allowing himself to surrender to the sensation. It is nearly painful, but not quite, most of all it simply feels full. It feels right, to be so very filled up by Anthony, to be entirely taken over by him. Flesh is just flesh, normally. But not with Anthony. With him, everything is more meaningful than it is with others. 

"Simon, I'm about to-" 

Simon caresses Anthony's arm where it holds his head in place, and Anthony spills into his throat. He drinks it all up greedily, revelling in the sensation of feeling Anthony so very deep within him. 

Once he's spent himself fully, Anthony gently extracts his member from Simon's mouth, ignoring Simon's moan of displeasure. He puts his hand out, and Simon takes it, allowing himself to be drawn up. He pulls Anthony close, kissing him and transforming some of the spent into his mouth. 

Anthony takes hold of his hand and leads him through the apartment into the small bedroom. Simon finds himself thrown on the bed, and watches with pleasure as Anthony takes the rest of his clothes off. 

"Take yours off," Anthony demands. 

"Right away, my Lord," Simon scrams to obey, and before long they are both entirely bare. Anthony crawls into the bed, over Simon, their bodies flush together. Simon nudges Anthony's nose with his own and whispers, "You are so beautiful." 

Anthony raises an eyebrow, "Now that I've shaved, that is?" 

Simon grins. 

"I’m going to fuck you now," Anthony whispers. 

Simon groans, "Gladly." 

"Good," Anthony gasps and leaves the bed. Simon groans at the loss, watching Anthony's pert ass globes moving up and down. Anthony goes to the dresser, opening one of the drawers. He takes out a jar half-filled with oil and walks back to Simon. 

Simon leans backwards on the pillows and looks up at Anthony as the other man looms over him. He takes hold of Anthony's hair and uses it to draw him into a bruising kiss. Anthony allows Simon to control the kiss, and before long Simon is so very lost in it that he does not even notice Anthony coating his fingers in oil. 

So when he feels the tip of a finger brush his opening, he gasps out in both shock as well as pleasure. Simon feels Anthony smile against his lips and his lover drags the fingertip up and down, caressing the opening from the outside, over and over again as Simon feels pleasure rip through his flesh. But it is not enough. 

"More,” Simon groans. "Get in there, Tony, now!" 

"As you wish," Anthony's eyes burn themselves into Simon as though there were made of fire, and the tip of the finger sinks deeper in, until a full knuckle is buried inside of him. 

Simon moans and tightens his hold on Anthony's hair as the finger slips out, and then back in again, this time going further in then it had before. Anthony pumps his finger in and out, each time burrowing further and further in. Before long another finger joins in, and Simon is buckling his hips in time with Anthony's thrusts. 

Tony releases Simon's mouth, and Simon groans at the loss. He smiles at him coyly, and then leans to kiss Simon's neck and chest, latching his lips on Simon's nipple. Simon lets out a long string of curses at the sensation, and then lets out another, much longer one when Tony's lips envelop his dick. 

And now when Simon thrusts forward, his cock is buried in the moist heaven of Anthony's mouth, and when he thrusts down his ass is impaled on Anthony's fingers. Pleasure pounds through every aspect of his body, making it impossible for him to think, to do anything but feel and breath along with Anthony. 

He comes with a cry what feels like eons later, but cannot be more then fifteen minutes. The pleasure is so powerful that his eyes grow blind for long seconds, and next he knows he's laid out on the bed, limbs splayed. There is a warm, wet cloth trailing down his cock and legs. Simon opens his eyes and watches Anthony tend to him carefully, cleaning him. 

"Tony," Simon whispers, voice rough from his screaming. 

Anthony drops the cloth and then comes over to kiss Simon tenderly. 

"Thank you," Simon caresses Anthony's cheek, running the pad of his finger over Anthony's lower lip. "My love." 

* 

Simon is more than a little taken aback to see Anthony escorting Daphne at the boxing match. He had not thought the sort of place would be considered appropriate for young ladies. He understands a bit more once he sees Anthony handing his sister over the prince, and makes his way over to him before the match can begin. 

"Your mother will have your head if she knew," He says. 

Anthony does not spare him a look, "Yes, I suppose she would. But do you see them together? They do not stop talking." 

"A very good sign," Simon says. "I do believe communication is important for a relationship to thrive." 

Then the match begins and they cannot spare each other another word. But Simon does notice, with some amusement, that Anthony barely looks away from his sister and the prince. 

* 

After the match, when they had returned to the club's smoking room, Simon sits by the window drinking when Anthony, who had gone to escort his sister back to her carriage, comes to sit by him. 

"Did you see that man talking to my brother?" He demands as soon as he's seated. 

"Hmm? Henry Granville, an artist I believe." 

"He gave my brother a card, why do you think he gave my brother a card?" 

Simon raises an eyebrow, "Perhaps a question best raised to your brother?" 

"My brother is an artist, though he does not credit himself as such," Anthony continues, as though he had not heard Simon. "It would be good for him, I think, to be in the tutelage-" 

"Viscount." 

The two of them turn to see the prince, and Tony hurriedly stands up, "Your Highness." 

"Might I have a word?" 

Once Anthony goes with the prince, another Bridgerton clasps Simon on the shoulder and says, “I have barely seen you since your return, your Grace.” 

“Benedict,” Simon grins, standing up to give Tony’s younger brother a quick embrace. “Come sit, distract me while your brother speaks to the prince.” 

“What, already?” Benedict frowns. “It’s a bit too soon for him to ask for the right to propose, do you not think so?” 

Simon shrugs, “Would you have your brother turn him down?” 

“No, of course not. Being a princess would suit Daphne terribly, I do believe.” 

Simon has to agree. She has the self-possession for it. 

"Well, she is not the only sibling your brother has been concerning himself with," Simon says. "He was wondering what Mr. Graville wanted with you." 

Benedict shrugs, picking up his brother's discarded glass, "He invited me to his studio." 

"Well, that is marvellous, is it not? He is a highly respected artist, you would learn much from him," Simon slaps Benedict's arm lightly. "Why are you not happy?" 

Benedict lets out a long breath and looks out the window, "It is not that I am unhappy. It is only that I feel I cannot...I have duties." 

"You are a second son," Simon snorts. "What duties do you have that you cannot afford to take up a trade?" 

"You know what duties," Benedict says calmly. "The duties that my brother cannot preform." 

Simon puts down his glass and leans forward, making sure they are far enough away from all others, "You can sire an heir while being an artist, I assure you. I have seen people who manage it." 

Half of Benedict's mouth curls up in a smile, but before he can say anything Anthony comes rushing back into the room. 

"Well?" Simon asks, half getting up. 

Anthony takes a breath, and then grins, "He has asked for permission to ask Daphne's hand. I told him he must ask her, but that I have no objections." 

There's a moment of stunned silence and then Benedict gets up, letting out a howl of pleasure, and tackles his older brother into a hug. 

"Do you think she will say yes?" Simon asks, though he suspects he knows the answer. 

Anthony pats his brother's back and tells Simon, "I suspect she will. But I will insist on a lengthy engagement. I will not have my sister marry a mere stranger. Lord. She will be the talk of the ton." 

"Your whole family will," Simon suspects as Benedict lets Anthony go. 

"Yes, we will have many proposals now that we're to become part of the Queen's own family," Benedict nods, looking rather pleased with himself. "Brother, be merry! This is joyous news." 

"It is," Anthony replies, though he looks rather dazed. "It is odd, though. To think of Daphne married...I feel as though only yesterday she were crying over Eloise ruining her favourite dolls." 

"Seasons change and children grow." 

"Yes, Hastings, very philosophical, well done," Anthony replies dryly and collapses on the chair that Benedict has just abdicated. "My sister, a princess. God Lord, Ben, what shall we do?" 

Benedict shrugs, "Support and love her. I can think of nothing else." 

"And begin discussing the dowry," Anthony adds, ever the practical one. 

* 

Two days later, Simon finds himself walking next to the modiste when Daphne Bridgerton walks out, her maid holding a few boxes of what must be new hats or ribbons or whatever it is ladies put in their boxes. He stops and smiles, bowing to the young woman. 

"Simon, I am so glad I caught you," Daphne gushes, taking hold of his hand with her two small, delicate ones. "Oh, I wanted to tell you in person-but you do not know yet, do you?" 

"What is it that I should not know, miss?" 

Daphne beams and nearly bounces on the pads of her feet, "The Prince. He has asked for my hand, we are to be married." 

"Oh, Daphne," Simon sighs, pulling her into a hug. "I am so pleased for you. He seems a kind young man." 

"He is," Daphne agrees. "A kind and caring young man. He wishes to move to England, once we are married. He will be given a place at Court, and we will stay in London. Though I imagine we would travel to Prussia often, to see his family. He has many cousins that he is rather fond of, and would want to see them as well-oh, but I'm babbling. Forgive me. I cannot seem to find calm at the moment." 

Simon finds his heart full to bursting, so pleased for the young girl's happiness. 

"You are in love," He says gently. "You are in love for the first time in your life." 

"And the last, as well," Daphne replies, confident. She looks around, and leans forward to whisper, "Did you feel this way? This... _light_ and fulfilled, when you first fell in love?" 

Simon shakes his head gently, and whispers back, "For me it did not happen like this. Not one big moment. I fell in love in little pieces, one adding unto the other until one day I awoke to realize that my heart had belonged to another for years and years. Less explosion and more...sinking into it." 

Daphne smiles, and then lets go of his hand, "I must go, the Prince is taking me to see his cousin, the Princess Charlotte. He says the princesses are dreadfully lonely. He wishes for me to befriend them. I am sure I will. But I will see you soon? Perhaps you will come to dinner again?" 

Simon bows his head again, "It would be my great honour." 

"And pleasure," Daphne says. "Say it will be a pleasure as well." 

"Yes. A pleasure as well,” And the oddest thing is, he finds that he is telling the truth. 

* 

As soon as Simon is let into the Bridgerton home, he is accosted by the bright presence of Eloise, who takes hold of his arm and draws him into the entrance hall, barely giving him an opportunity to hand his hat and coat to the footman. 

"It is good you are here," Eloise says, dragging Simon along with her. She has a rather strong grip for a young lady. "We have need of you." 

Simon raises an eyebrow, "I am always glad to be of service to young ladies." 

"Yes, well, we're in the midst of a rather vicious checkers tournament," Eloise says brightly, and practically shoves Simon into the drawing room. The room is warm from the cackling fire, and the feeling in increased by the presence of the four Bridgertons (Anthony, Colin, Benedict and Daphne), all sitting together on the lush carpet next to a low table with a checkers board on it. "And as you can plainly see, we are one player short." 

Anthony is sprawled out on the thick carpet, staring at the ceiling with a lost look in his eyes. 

"We pair up," Eloise places Simon on the carpet in between Daphne and Benedict, facing Anthony. "Daphne and Benedict have already claimed one another, and I am with Anthony." 

"That leaves me partnerless," Colin says with a grin. "Though I do not fathom why I would need one." 

"Colin has a very high opinion of himself," Benedict says, and then ducks when Colin reaches across the table to attempt a swipe on his head. 

Simon folds his legs and leans his chin on his hand, "What has occurred to your eldest brother?" 

"Hmm?" Daphne turns and looks at Tony. "Oh, yes. He lost. Twice in a row." 

"To Colin," Anthony says, voice lost and confused. "I have never lost to Colin twice in a row before. Eloise, yes, Fran, yes. Even Benedict once. Never Colin." 

Colin beams. 

"Cheer up, brother, you will lose one day to all of your siblings," Daphne says, and goes over to kiss Anthony's forehead. "We shall not stop until we are the superior players." 

"Oh, Eloise is far superior to Anthony," Benedict mumbles. 

Anthony pushes Daphne away playfully, and sits up. He smiles swiftly at Simon before turning to Eloise, "So, sister. How are we to do this now we have our last player?" 

Eloise takes charge, informing them all of the very particular order the games shall be played, and they begin. 

The siblings play the same way they do everything else. Together, with fighting and teasing and loving words, so very connected to one another that sometimes they have entire conversations in a single word. At some point Daphne dryly says to Eloise, "The dolls", and the three brothers burst into uproarious laughter while Eloise scowls and insists that _it is not the same, not at all._ They attempt to explain their meaning to Simon, but it gets rather complicated and he waves their attempts off. He does not need to understand the inner workings of their family. It is enough for him that he's allowed in the midst of their love. 

The door opens at some point and Lady Violet comes in with her two youngest children. The Dowager sits on one of the sofas, reclining with Gregory on her side. She greets Simon with a small smile when he raises to give her a small bow, and then turns to talk to Gregory about his studies. Once Simon settles down on the lush carpet again Hyacinth comes skipping over and places her little hand on Simon's shoulder. 

"Are you winning, your Grace?" 

Anthony grins at his sister as he moves his piece. Simon stares down at the board and groans, "I'm afraid I have just lost, miss." 

"Hyacinth," Anthony motions the youngest Bridgerton over, and places her on his lap when she complies. "Why support the duke and not your own brother, hmm?" 

"I've seen you play before, I've never seen a _duke_ play checkers before." 

Simon snorts and Daphne asks, "Do you find it different, Hyacinth?" 

"I cannot say. You must play more so I can see," Hyacinth perches herself on her brother as though he were a throne and nods soberly at Simon. "Go on then." 

* 

After dinner, the Bridgerton brothers and Simon retire to the billiard room. They play a few games before Anthony goes to sit by the fire to watch. A few minutes later Simon abandons the game as well, leaving the Bridgerton brothers to battle it out. He sits down on the chair next to Anthony, and silently accepts the glass of brandy Anthony pours and pushes his way. 

"Cheers," Simon mumbles, clinking his drink with Anthony. 

"Benedict, that was a cheat! Put that ball back!" 

"What? I shot it fairly." 

"You-you moved it with your hand! Do you take me for a fool? I saw you!" 

"They bicker quite a bit," Simon says quietly, and Anthony shrugs. 

"That's what siblings do, I suppose," He swallows a large portion of his drink. 

"I never would have thought a loving family would involve quite so much...arguing." 

Anthony gives Simon a curious look, and then says so quietly that Simon barely hears him, "We argue quite a bit, to we not?" 

Simon blinks, "Yes, I suppose we do at that." 

"We argue amongst us because there is no danger in it," Anthony says, once more speaking in a normal tone. "We love each quite strongly enough that we may fight as much as we wish." 

He gets up to separate his brothers, and Simon raises his glass to his lips in an attempt to hide his smile. 

* 

The Bridgertons, quite naturally, become the talk of the ton. Lady Whistledown can speak of nothing else, and the gentlemen in the club spend more time staring enviously at Anthony and Benedict then they do nearly anything else. All nobles placed above the Bridgertons in station whisper that Daphne has been betrothed above her station and that their daughters would have done much better for the prince, and all the nobles placed bellow seem rather hopeful that if the sister of a viscountess can marry so above her station, perhaps their daughters can marry above theirs. 

The other Bridgerton siblings have suddenly become the most sought-after prizes of the Season. To marry one of them now is to, indirectly, be related to royalty. This means that all the beaming mamas and swooning daughters have turned their attentions away from Simon for the moment and directed them at Anthony and Benedict. 

Even little Collin gets a fair share of it, and Simon has seen one or two men talk to _Eloise_ , despite the fact that she is not out yet. Luckily, he was there at the time and put a swift end to _t_ _hat_ nonsense. 

The Dowager is, of course, shining with the light of a pleased mama. She has netted her daughter the best marriage that she could have possibly dreamt of, and will probably soon have yet another child flying the nest, what with all these offers. Simon knows she would very much like it to be Anthony, because more than once when he comes to the apartment he finds the burned remains of a list of debutantes names. Most likely, though, it will be Benedict next. 

That is, at least, what they think until the garden party. 

Simon had been cajoled into coming to the party the night before, when he took dinner with the Bridgertons. The request (or rather, demand, if he were being fully honest) had come from Hyacinth, of all people. Simon is not sure why, but she had taken quite a liking to him, and he must admit that he finds himself rather charmed by the intelligent young girl himself. She had wanted to show him a flower she particularly adored that grew in the greenhouse and had apparently been given to one of the princesses by some foreign dignitary or another. There was some story there that Hyacinth swore was rather fascinating. 

So when he arrives and spots Hyacinth leaning against her mother next to Eloise (with Anthony rather close), Simon waves at her and makes his way over, carefully avoiding the various mamas (now that Daphne is engaged, he is considered eligible again, though not quite as much of a catch as Anthony and Benedict have suddenly become). 

"Your Grace," The Dowager gives him a bright smile, and Hyacinth releases her mother to propel herself against Simon. 

"Oh," Simon blinks down at her, and then hesitantly caresses her hair. "Good morning, miss." 

"Good morning, your Grace," Hyacinth releases him. "I am glad you came." 

"I did give you my word, Miss Bridgerton, did I not?" He asks in a pompous voice, earning himself a giggle. 

"Anthony wanted to see the flower as well, so he shall come," Hyacinth declares. She takes Simon's hand in hers and then pulls on her brother's sleeve. "Anthony! The Duke is here." 

Anthony turns, always at the beck in call of his sister, "Yes, I see that. Did I not tell you that if he gave his word, then he would come?" 

"You did, now shall we-" 

"May I have everyone's attention?" 

Simon turns to see Collin, standing with a glass in his hand and a pretty young woman by his side. 

"I would like to make a small but important announcement," Collin says, looking nervous but rather sure of himself. "I have happy news to impart." 

Anthony and Benedict exchange a rather alarmed look. 

"I have asked Miss Thompson to be my wife, and she has accepted." 

"Bloody hell," Anthony whispers. He pushes past his sister to hiss to his mother, "Did you know about this?" 

Hyacinth pulls on Simon's sleeve, "My brother will be married?" 

"It... appears so," Simon leans down and whispers in her ear. "And your other brother might have indigestion if one is to judge by the look on his face." 

The little girl giggles. 


	4. Chapter 4

"That stupid boy!" 

Simon ducks, just managing to avoid being hit in the head by the chair Anthony sends flying through the air. He doesn’t think it was _meant_ to be sent his way-Tony seemed to have utterly forgotten he was not alone in the room. 

"He does not listen to reason! He wishes to marry her, the unknown cousin of that bloody Featherington man?" 

This time Simon must step sideways so as not to be struck by a book. A very heavy book. 

"And what was that for? I am not the one who proposed to a young lady I barely know," Simon raises an eyebrow, and shoves his shirt off. 

"I don't know, I forgot you were there," Anthony says, and yelps in indignation when Simon tackles him to the ground. 

"I am here, aren't I?" He kisses Anthony deeply. "See? So why don't you pay a bit more attention to me and leave the poor contents of your apartment alone for a bit?" 

Anthony sighs and drops his head down on the floor. Simon decides to take that as silent agreement, and begins kissing down Anthony's throat. 

"My mother has accepted an invitation to the Featheringtons, for dinner tonight," Anthony says. 

"Hmm," Simon urges Anthony's hands up and slips his shirt off. 

"If Colin is to be married," Anthony hisses as Simon latches his lips onto his nipple. "Then-ah, then it will become even more conspicuous should I remain unwe- _Simon._ " 

Simon licks the bud and looks up, "Benedict isn't married yet, either." 

"He will marry soon, I am sure. Some acquaintance of that painter he's been spending his days with." 

Simon sighs and sits up, "Anthony. Tell me what's wrong." 

Anthony looks up at the ceiling for a moment and then says quietly, "I went to church a few days ago." 

_God grant me strength._

" _Why_?" 

Anthony shrugs, "It was far away, I wore a disguise. The priest said that I had a demon inside of me. Said I needed to be _exorcized_ -" 

"You went...to a Catholic Church?" Simon's eyes widen. 

"I tried Anglican Churches before. It didn't work." 

Simon sits up and buries his face in his hands, "Right. Do we have to have this conversation again?" 

Anthony sits up, glaring at Simon, "My brother is getting married. My younger brother is more of a man then I can ever be." 

"More of a man?" Simon shakes his head, disgusted. "You think you're...less of a man?" 

"Is it not the job of a man to sire children, just as it is a woman's job to birth them?” 

"Bloody hell," Simon groans and stands up, stomping around. "Your mother can no longer birth children. Is she less of a woman?" 

"No, but-" 

"And if a man fucks his wife every day for thirty years and she never grows round with child, is he less of a man?" Simon demands. "You know what this is? This is you looking for a reason to see yourself as lesser. But there is no reason, other than the fears instilled in you by your religion." 

"Shut up," Anthony growls, scrambling to his feet. He pushes Simon, just hard enough to make the other man stumble. "You-you have no right. If you wished, you could have a child. But I-I cannot. Do you understand? I cannot do it! I have tried, over and over, with so many different women, and I _cannot do it_." 

"You know," Simon grabs Anthony's wrist, pulling him close. "That I will never have a child. That does not make me less of a man. You are not less of a man. You are the head of your household, you are the protector of your family. And my love, you are not doomed. You are not possessed, you have no demon within you. This is just who you are. And the world we live, it cannot understand it. That does not mean that we are wrong. It means that _they_ are wrong." 

"How can you be sure?" Anthony whispers, allowing Simon to hug him close. "If the whole world thinks us sinners, who are we to say we are not?" 

Simon cups Anthony's face in his hands, "Not all the world thinks so. Will doesn't, your brother doesn't. Your sister doesn't." 

Anthony jerks away, eyes wide, "You did not tell Hyacinth, did you?" 

"What? No, of course not. She is a child!" 

"You seemed quite enamoured by her." 

"I am, she's a _charming_ child," Simon agrees. "But a child still. I was referring to Daphne. And I did not tell her a thing, she figured it out on her own." 

Anthony groans, hugging Simon's neck tightly, "Of course she did. Gods above. I will have to talk to her." 

Simon smiles, "She was upset, when we spoke of it. Because it seemed so unfair to her, that we cannot be open with our love." 

He feels the body in his arms still, and Anthony says, "It is not fair. It is so very unfair." 

Simon closes his eyes and holds Tony closer. They stay like that for some time, before Anthony clears his throat and gently pushes Simon away, going to sit on the sofa. 

"Do you remember, Si, that day when you ran from Eton?" Anthony asks in a soft tone, hiding his eyes with the palm of his hand. 

Simon sits down next to him and leans backwards on the sofa's arms, placing his feet on Anthony's lap, "Which time? I believe that I ran from school more than once." 

Anthony smiles tiredly and takes his hand off his eyes, "The first time." 

"Ah," Simon nods. "Yes." 

Anthony leans his head on a pillow and caresses the tips of Simon's toes, "You got rather far away." 

"All the way to Windsor," Simon says. "They found me sleeping in a farmer's pigsty." 

He grins at the memory. It had happened a few months after he first came to Eton, a frightened, confused thirteen-year-old boy who had never been in the presence of other boys his age. Lady Danbury had been the one to accompany him to the school, his father having only barely been convinced to let him go. He had been afraid that Simon would shame him. 

It had been so very terrifying, those early days. At the time, he had still stuttered sometimes when he spoke, and to the other boys that made him an obvious victim of ridicule. They had called him half-wit, and orphan as well. Teased him once they had discovered that his father despised him so. Teasing had turned into cruel pranks and beatings rather quickly, and after some time Simon could bare it no longer. 

That was when he had run away. He had snuck into the school's kitchens and nicked a few loafs of bread and jars of jam (he had not considered, at the time, that bread does not last quite enough time to be useful for what he had hoped would be an escape into a new life). Then he had waited until late at night before sneaking out of his dorm through the window. 

When the headmaster had found him in the pigsty, Simon had been given thirty lashes and been confined to his dormitory for nearly two weeks, given two simple meals a day, a Bible and instructions to 'consider what sort of man he wished to grow into'. 

Those two weeks had been when he had first become acquainted with one Anthony Bridgerton. They had shared a dormitory since the day they arrived at Eton, but had not shared more than fleeting words between them, Anthony having spent most of his time with another boy they shared the dormitory with, who he knew from London. But once Simon was placed in his confinement, Anthony became his steadfast companion. He snuck sweets and candies for him, spent hours sitting on Simon's bed with him to keep him entertained. And from that moment on, they were inseparable. 

"What made you think of this?" Simon asks Anthony. 

Anthony looks up at the ceiling, "I knew, Simon, that the other boys were treating you cruelly. And I did nothing to stop it." 

Simon frowns, "After my runaway attempt. You defended me in the dining hall, don't you remember? Hit that other boy in the cock." 

"But I knew you needed me beforehand, and I did not give you my support. Are you not mad at me?" 

"I was, once," Simon says. Anthony knows that, he'd beaten him up for it a few years later, when he was brimming with anger and lust that had yet to find an outlet. "But it was many years ago, and you have been a true friend since. Tony, why are we discussing our boyhood misdeeds now?" 

He leans forward to caress Anthony's hair. 

"Talk with me, Tony." 

"I was afraid, you know," Anthony says. "My fear of being hurt as well was stronger than my wish to defend you." 

Simon frowns, "What are you thinking, Anthony?" 

"It would have been safer for you, if I had kept us from reuniting in the manner in which we did," Anthony whispers, and Simon's stomach sinks. "We speak of how unfair the world is to our love, but what of how unfair I am, for not letting you go?" 

"What about me, then? Am I not unfair for keeping _you_?" Simon asks. 

Anthony shrugs, helplessly, and says simply, "I need you." 

"And I need you, you bloody fatwit!" Simon crawls on Anthony's lap. "I cannot live without your love; I do not want to try it. The two years I was gone were the worst in my life, worst then the years I spend under my father's rule. I _adore_ you, I need you, I love you so." 

"You can have it, though," Anthony says, wrapping his arms around Simon. "The life that I cannot. A wife and children-I know you do not want it. But I feel selfish, still. I feel as though if I were not here, perhaps one day you would have met a young lady who convinced you that there is something to desire beyond-" 

"I do not think that would have happened," Simon interrupts. "And even if it would have, you think that would have made me happier then you? Our love is hidden from the light of public knowledge, but it is not hidden from the light of happiness. And it pains me, my love, that you cannot see that." 

"I see it," Anthony says. "I know we are happy." 

"Then let that be enough," Simon begs. "Believe me when I tell you, that for me it is enough." 

Anthony hugs Simon roughly, "Yes. I only wish...I only wish my family could know. My mother." 

* 

Anthony had not wanted this marriage, Simon knows, but this situation with Miss Thompson’s revealed shame puts the Bridgertons in a rather perilous position. It is good that Friedrich is so very enamoured with Daphne, or he might have considered calling off the wedding. As it is, Daphne is safe, but the rest of the family might be in some danger. 

Simon is not entirely sure how, but he finds himself at the Bridgertons once more, the night after Miss Tompson's secret had been revealed. He sits in the parlour with the Dowager, Benedict, Colin and Anthony, watching the family drama and wondering to himself how he can possibly escape without reminding the Dowager that is still there. He has no desire to cause her to feel any shame. 

"Miss Thompson must be in agonies over these lies," Colin tries. "Why can I not visit her?" 

"Colin-" 

"Listen to me," Anthony says from the fire, interrupting his mother. "That the ton devours every bit of Whistledown's on-dit is the only thing keeping this family from shame. Because of her, Colin, no one believes you are the father of Miss Thompson's child." 

Simon is quite sure that the boy is not. He has that look to him-the look of a boy who has never sown his oats. 

"But if you go near her, they'll presume you responsible for her ruin, and all your sisters will pay the price. Is this what you desire?" 

"Of course not, but-" 

The door opens, revealing Daphne, who had been out at the opera with the Prince (and Lady Danbury acting as capherone. Apparently Mrs. Bridgerton and her had grown quite close over time). 

"Evening, Mother, brothers," Her eyes pass Simon. "Your Grace." 

"Miss," He acknowledges, and waits to be kicked out now that he is noticed. 

No one moves to do so. 

"Daphne, what did the Prince say of this?" The Dowager demands. "Once the ton sees that we still have the favour of the Prince, and by extension the Queen, then the whispers may very well cease." 

Daphne frowns, "He did not say much, other than that he is sorry that our family has fallen on hard times. I did not choose to marry him so I can use him in schemes for power, Mama. I love him." 

Now more than ever, Simon suspects. The months that have passed since their engagement have proven that their love grows stronger by the day, and more secure in a bond of friendship. 

"But yes, he will stand by our side. Now, I have not, I must admit, been paying due attention...what grand event shall be descending upon us this week?" 

Simon sees Anthony and Benedict exchange a look, one that says _these are women's issues now, let us remain silent._

"The Queen is hosting a luncheon." 

"Oh, yes, Friedrich told me. We have an invitation, of course. If we're lucky, the two of us will be just charming enough to distract the ton from... other matters." 

Colin snorts, "Well, I'm certainly happy this has been settled on my behalf." 

After he stomps out of the door, Anthony sighs deeply and says, "One week without a scandal. Just one, that is all I ask. One week during the Season. Is that asking too much?" 

"I think asking for a day is too much, if I'm honest," Benedict mumbles. 

* 

"Your Grace, Miss Daphne Bridgerton is requesting an audience." 

Simon looks up from the letter he's been scribbling to his housekeeper at Clyvden and nods, "Let her in." 

The footman bows and rushes out of the study. Simon pushes the most sensitive papers into drawers and waits patiently for Daphne to come in. 

When she does, she walks straight to him, and he gives her a small bow and motions her to sit on the chair in front of him, "Daphne. I am always so very pleased to see you." 

"And I you," Daphne says, but she looks rather agitated. "Forgive me, your Grace, but I have a request to make of you." 

"You needn't call me that, I thought we were beyond such formalities. Are we not friends?" 

"We are," Daphne assures him. "Forgive me, I am... distracted of late." 

Simon sighs, "I am sorry for the unpleasantness happening with Colin. Have you spoken to the prince of it yet?" 

"I have. He asked if I would like to marry right away, to help distract the ton. But Mother said it would arise suspicions. The marriage will happen next Season," Daphne takes a deep breath. "That is why I am here. Not the Prince, Colin. I was thinking that perhaps it would help him, to put this aside, if he were to talk to Miss Thompson. To say goodbye." 

"Daphne," Simon shakes his head, leaning forward. "Do you truly think that would help?" 

"I hope so. I do not want Colin to spend the rest of his life wondering what could have happened. The sense of an open story that cannot find an ending," Daphne wipes a tear off her cheek. "He does not believe that she is truly with child. He needs to hear it from her, to believe it, and more on with his life.” 

"And if I were to guess, you are about to suggest that we host said meeting here, at Hastings House?" 

"Yes." 

Simon rubs his face, "I highly doubt that your brother would appreciate my helping you in such a way." 

Daphne's nose wrinkles, "If you are a speaking of Anthony, I think he would appreciate having Colin calmer. And he's been acting...quite calmer about this then I would have expected." 

Simon raises an eyebrow and says dryly, "He threw a chair a few days ago." 

"Did he? Well, I suppose all his anger washed out of him then. So. Shall you help me?" 

Simon waves a hand, "Yes, very well. But should your brother decree that I must die for my actions, I expect you to take charge over my funeral preparations." 

* 

“Marina...you must tell me that this Whistledown woman is mistaken. What she wrote, it cannot be true.” 

Simon stops in the hallway when he hears Colin’s urgent words. He’d elected to stay away from the morning room while Daphne chaperones the meeting between Colin and Miss Thompson, but he finds curiosity requires him to peek through the crack in the door. 

“But it is,” Miss Thompson said. From his position, Simon cannot see her face, only Colin’s, and the boy’s expression shatters. 

“You are with child?” Simon can hear the confusion and desperation in his voice. “I do not understand. We were to be wed. You said that you loved me.” 

“Colin, I hold you in the greatest esteem-” 

“ _Esteem_?” Simon leans his forehead on the door, losing track of the conversation for a moment. It is cruel and hard, being a young boy. 

“I needed to wed, and you, you were the only man who offered me even a glimmer of happiness.” 

“So I should feel flattered, then-” 

“Enough, Colin,” Simon snaps, unable to stop himself, and steps into the room. The three inhabitants of the room freeze. 

“Your Grace-” 

“Listen to me,” Simon says sharply. “I understand you are hurt, and you are right to be. Because she lied to you. But you cannot stand there and besmirch the lady’s name. Do you not understand she would have been lost had she not done something similar? Her and her child. What would you not do, to protect those you love? Your siblings, your mother?” 

Colin rubs a tear off his eye angry, “But that is the cruellest part of this deception. If you had simply told me of your situation, I’d have married you without a second thought. That is how in love I believed myself to be. But I see now that it was all a lie.” 

He turns and leaves, nearly running out of the room. Simon exchanges a brief glance with Daphne before dashing out of the room after the young boy. 

“Colin-” He manages to catch Colin’s arm out of the building by the fountain. “Wait.” 

“I feel a fool,” Colin gasps. “How could I be such a fool, Simon?” 

“You were not a fool, you were in lust,” Simon says gently. 

The boy turns to look at him, “In lust. You did not believe I felt love?” 

Simon shakes his head, “No, I believe love is deeper. Love is something that grows.” 

“It still hurts.” 

“Yes, I am sure it does,” Simon wraps an arm around Colin’s shoulder and ruffles his hair. “But I do believe you shall survive.” 


	5. Chapter 5

As soon as he arrives at the Queen's luncheon, Simon finds himself pulled away by Hyacinth. Anthony gives him a pitying look, but does nothing to save him while the girl drags him along with her to join her group of friends, the young daughters and sons of the nobles (and he’s quite sure that some of the bastard children of Prince William are among the group). The children pull him down on the green grass with them, and he finds himself playing the devil in their game, stealing the various princesses and falling to the swords (that is to say, sticks) of the gallant knights come to save them. 

He is saved himself eventually by Lady Danbury, who comes to stand close by and watches him with amusement. When he begs a break of the children and walks over to her, she tells him, "It suits you." 

"Being run ragged?" Simon brushes the dirt and grass off his arms. 

"Fatherhood." 

Simon stills, and then shakes his head, "You are unmovable, are you not?" 

"Come," Lady Danbury takes hold of his arm. "Walk with me." 

"I will not marry, I do not want to hear what lovely debutante you wish me to pursue and presume would be _perfect_ for me," Simon snaps. 

"Lower your voice, young man, and smile," The lady hisses, and Simon forces a smile on his face. "You are being childish, and selfish-" 

" _Selfish_?" 

"You are a Duke. Your father was the only one of us to achieve such a high position. Second only to royalty itself. If you die without an heir, we lose that position." 

Simon shakes his head, "I thought you were the one who was so very sure of our position in Court. And I will name an heir before I die, to take over Hastings." 

Lady Danbury sighs deeply, "The debutante I wish to introduce you to-" 

Simon groans, following Lady Danbury into a quiet, empty part of the gardens. 

"Enough, let me speak," Lady Danbury raises a finger. "She is a lovely young lady, who seeks a solution to a problem of hers. Her and another young lady...who she is very fond of." 

It would be, Simon supposes, a perfect solution if he were interested in such a sham. A way to get heirs and live life freed from any other marital demands. 

"No." 

Lady Danbury gives him a harsh look, "You have told me, before, that were Vicount Bridgerton to marry he would have your support." 

"Yes?" Simon frowns. "What does that to do with our discussion?" 

Were Anthony of Simon's sort, able to perform with women as well as men, he does not doubt that Anthony would have been married years previously. To do his duty for his family and title. But what that has to do with Simon's choice he is not sure. 

"It would not be a betrayal for you to marry," Lady Danbury says. "Especially not if you were to be married both under this sort of...understanding with your wives." 

Simon wants to bash his head against something, "That is not why I will not marry. I will not have an heir, I promised my father thusly and I will not break my word. And I refuse to tie myself in such a way to another. Can you not understand? Those words, these promises you must make your wife, they mean something. I am a man of my word. I keep my promises, always. And so I refuse to make a false one, to promise to love a woman, to stay by her side in sickness and health till death do us part. Because those promises-I have already made them in my heart to another, and I intent to keep them to him." 

Without waiting for a response, he turns and leaves the lady alone in the garden, making his way back to the children. 

* 

"Apparently it's working," Anthony says to him after the Featheringtons are thrown out of the party. "Everyone appears to be discussing the beautiful royal pair and their charming love. They've started to plan the wedding. I think that helped." 

"I'm sure it did," Simon mumbles, watching the path in front of them. They’ve found a rather perfect spot, far enough from the rest of the luncheon that they cannot be overheard, yet close enough that any strollers may see them sitting in plain sight, a respectable distance between them, on separate seats. Good friends enjoying a moment of rest in between giving their respects to the various ladies. 

"Prince Friedrich and Daphne decided to have the marriage at the opening of next Season. He needs to return to Prussia to settle his business there for a few months, by the it will be well into the summer. Might as well wait for the Season to have the lavish wedding a royal matrimony requires. Daphne is not pleased; she wants to be married sooner-" 

Glintingly, Simon wonders if some of that has to do with him and what he...taught her of her own body. But he pushes that thought away, finding it rather too disturbing to contemplate. Whatever happens in between Daphne and the Prince, he hopes desperately that it will be charmed and lovely and that he never has to hear of it. Not a whisper. _Ever_. 

"The Prince will also need to find lands in England for his summer home. Apparently, the Prince Regent already has a job ready for him." 

Simon nods and massages his neck, where he is sore from his last bout of training with Will. He sees Danbury walking by, hand-in-hand with a stunningly beautiful young girl. 

"All right," Simon yelps when Anthony slaps him on the back of his head. "Tell me what has happened to you. You’re not paying attention to me." 

Simon twists his entire body so he’s facing Anthony on the chair and not the path. 

"Lady Danbury has accosted me with a proposition." 

Anthony nods as he listens to Lady Danbury's suggestion. When he's done Anthony leans backwards on his own chair and looks around, once more making sure they are truly alone. He seems to think for a moment, and then says, "I've been thinking." 

"Oh, yes, you do that quite often." 

Anthony growls in displeasure, but there's a smile on his face, "You've always said to me, that should I desire to be married, you would support such an endeavour." 

Simon nods, "As I would support nearly any of your endeavours." 

Anthony laces his fingers, "But I've been thinking. I do not think I would be able to afford you the same courtesy, should you choose to marry-" 

"I would never-" 

"I know, Si, I know," Anthony hushes him. "But the thought of you marrying...I cannot stand. I find myself thinking of myself belonging to another and...I do not think I could bare it." 

Anthony takes a deep breath. 

"I do not want to hate and despise myself anymore. I do not want to-to feel as though I am unworthy of my title," Anthony nods, seemingly to himself, and then looks down at Simon. "I am done, no more. No more attempting to _save_ myself, no more going to the Churches and mistresses. I cannot fuck them, I do not want to keep on trying. I will never marry. My brothers will sire the heir to our house. Firstborn Bridgerton of a firstborn Bridgerton, nine times over. The streak must end with me." 

“You’ve said so before, and chose another path a few months later,” Simon says. 

“I know,” Anthony shrugs. “I suppose only time will prove to you I am in earnest this time around.” 

His heart beats rapidly, joy rushing through his veins. He does not even attempt to quash it. Should Anthony, a few months from now, once more attempt to heal himself, it will be an issue for Simon then, not now. Now he may enjoy the calm of knowing that, at least for now, Anthony will keep himself safe from unnecessary dangers. 

It is possibly simply his hope speaking, but he thinks this time the resolution might stay. There is a determination in Anthony’s eyes that he cannot remember ever seeing before (and he remembers quite a lot about Anthony’s eyes). 

“Can you escape the luncheon?” 

Anthony folds his arms, “Yes, I think I might.” 

“Then let's go to your apartment.” 

* 

As soon as they're closed off in the safety of the apartment, door locked behind them, Simon hoists Anthony up on his arms as though he were a swooning lady. Anthony lets out a high shriek at that (which helps with the image), and hits Simon's arm. 

"What in damnation do you think you're doing? Put me down at once!" 

"In a moment," Simon whispers in his ear, and then places him down gently on the bed above the covers. Anthony blinks up at him, frowning as though attempting to comprehend what is happening. Simon keeps his eyes on his lover as he strips himself and stands above him. "There, I've put you down." 

Anthony swallows, eyes trailing down Simon's body, "That you have. Will you join me now?" 

"Naturally," Simon slowly walks over to the side table, opening a drawer and taking out two long strips of silk. One red, one blue. "But first...are we to play, my Lord Viscount?" 

He turns to look Anthony in the eye, keeps on studying him, carefully caressing his black locks back from his forehead. He leans down and kisses Anthony gently, sweetly, and feels Anthony's body growing lax and calm. 

"We are to play, your Grace," Anthony whispers as he pulls away. 

Simon closes his eyes for a moment, takes a deep breath and stands up. He takes the blue silk, and Anthony raises his hands, crossing his wrists and placing his arms above his head. The look he gives Simon, so full of trust and love, nearly causes Simon to lose his ability to breath. He places one knee on the bed and reaches over, tying Anthony's wrists to the bed. Anthony takes a deep breath, and then closes his eyes. 

"Tug?" Simon caresses Anthony's neck, two fingers going up and down. Anthony obeys. "How is that?" 

"Well enough," Anthony closes his eyes. 

Simon trails his fingers up to touch Anthony's cheek, "And the other ribbon? Shall we use that?" 

"Over my eyes," Anthony keeps his eyes closed, his voice sure and commanding. The Viscount of Bridgerton speaking to his humble servant. It sends a thrill right to Simon's cock. 

"Anything you desire, my Lord," Simon kisses Anthony's forehead, and ties the red ribbon over his eyes. The sight nearly makes him weep. So many times they have been in this position, and yet the thrill never fails to come. "Is that-" 

"It is well, Si," Anthony sighs, seeming content. "It is well." 

"Good," Simon nods. "If you wish to be released, what shall you say?" 

"Hmm," Anthony tilts his head in thought. "Ton." 

"Ton?" Simon laughs. "You wish to bring them into our bedroom?" 

"You best insure they are not brought in, then." 

Simon smiles and kisses Anthony's forehead again, fleetingly. He lets go of him for a moment, moving towards the edge of the bed, and sits on of it, next to Anthony's folded legs. He carefully places his hand on Anthony's knee and trails it down to the seam of his pants, "Now listen to me, my Lord. You cannot get away, you cannot escape. You are not responsible now, you have no responsibility here. Rest, relax." 

He slowly slips Anthony's trousers and pants off, leaving the man bare. Anthony lets out a sharp moan as the air hits his member, and Simon smiles. 

"Outside of this room, you are a Viscount, with all the responsibilities that entails," Simon leans forward and licks a strap of saliva down Anthony's neck. "In here, you are nothing of the sort. In here, you are my Lord and I am your humble servant, here to pleasure and please you. There is nothing else but me and you." 

Anthony turns his head towards Simon's voice, but Simon ducks away, leaning down. He puts his hands atop Anthony's legs and gently pushes them apart, exposing his red, puckered hole. Simon licks his lips at the sight and pushes Anthony's legs further up, giving himself more room. Anthony lets out a strangled voice, and Simon ducks in. 

"Fuck-" Anthony gasps out as Simon licks him in his most private of places. Lord above, he tastes perfect. He tastes like Heaven, and the sounds he makes are even sweeter. "Simon-oh _God_!" 

Simon hums in agreement, pushing his tongue as far as it will go, burying his face in between Anthony's legs. He sucks and licks, tasting his viscount as he keeps on going. Before long, he has Anthony gasping and moaning in ways that would make any courtesan jealous, and Simon himself is so very hard he feels he might burst. So he regretfully moves away, heart clenching at the whimper of loss Anthony makes, and quickly grabs the jar of oil on the table. 

"Hush, love, I am here," He murmurs to Anthony, slicking up his fingers. "I am here." 

"Yes, I know. You're here," Anthony sounds desperate. 

Simon leans forwards, "Always. And I will show you how I am here, I will fill you up, fuck you until we are one body. Do you want that, Tony?" 

Anthony nods profusely, "Yes, yes. Do it, fuck me, Simon please-" 

"Shh," Simon whispers, kissing Anthony's neck reverently. "You need not beg. I exist simply for pleasing you." 

He thrusts one of his fingers in, and he and Anthony gasp together in pleasure. Simon closes his eyes, his finger so very hot, and latches his teeth into Tony's shoulder, marking him. Anthony whimpers, and Simon collapses over him. He uses his free hand to grasp the base of his member, squeezing hard to prevent himself from spending. He _will_ be spending inside of Anthony, marking him in yet another way, claiming him as his lover, his lord, his _world_. So Anthony will know that they are one being, in the end, so very closely are their souls intertwined. He whispers that to Anthony, and the man nods his head vehemently. 

"Yes, you are mine, I am yours, we are one," Anthony gasps. "Get inside me now, Si, I am ready." 

Simon nods, even though Anthony cannot see him, and moves up, body aligned with Anthony's, hovering over him. He positions himself, and thrusts in. 

They gasp together once again, and Simon buries his nose in the crook of Tony’s shoulder blade and neck. He breathes in his familiar, much-loved scent, and moves his hips slowly. Anthony is moved by Simon’s body. 

“Si, Si,” Tony groans. “Stronger.” 

“Yes,” Simon pounds into Anthony’s awaiting body, as powerfully as he can go, wanting to mark, wanting to claim. “You are mine, mine, mine. My own, my love-” 

“I am. My own, my love, my darling.” 

* 

“I figured you’d have been here an hour ago.” 

“Well, I would have been, but it’s not as if you needed me here to wish you luck,” Simon clears his throat. He had made the mistake of leaving Anthony in charge of making sure they were on time. He’d forgotten that Anthony can never be trusted with those sorts of jobs, despite the number of times he had looked at his father’s watch. _We have a few minutes_ , he said, when they decidedly did _not_. “You ready?” 

“As I shall ever be,” Will says, bumping his fist with Simon’s. His eyes leave Simon's, though, and Simon frowns when he realizes that Will is looking at, all of all people, Lord Featherington. He opens his mouth to ask his friend what the bloody hell he's looking at that git for, but the ringing and announcer prevents him from talking to his friend. 

Simon goes to sit next to Alice to watch the match. The Bridgerton boys are seated together, locked in their private, family world. Even if Simon wasn't sitting by Alice, he would not want to join Anthony and his brothers. He does not want to interfere in the inner workings of their family, it is not his place. And there is something rather enjoyable with having a place that is Simon's and a place that is Anthony's. They need not be as one all hours of the day. 

Will gets hit in the arm, and pulls backwards, holding onto the wounded area. The reaction appears disproportionate to Simon. He's seen Will be hit thrice as hard and not flinch. 

A punch in the face causes a moment of hesitation, and then Will collapses on the ground. Simon stands, shock and confusion warring for prominence within him. 

The bell is rung, but that is not possible, it is not possible that Will has been defeated with such speed, such ease, and Simon yells, "Get up, Mondrich!" 

Will closes his eyes, resigned, and presses his face into the floor. 

* 

If he had any doubts that unseemly things had occurred (which he did not), the sight of Lord Featherington leaving Will's tent as Simon goes in would dispel such doubts. Simon finds himself grow even angrier as he storms in. 

"It appears I could have used that luck of yours today, your Grace," Will says, sounding harsh and challenging. 

"Indeed," Simon snaps back. "Though you still managed to put on quite a performance." 

Will does not reply. 

"If you needed another investor, or more money, Will, you could have come to me," He is not lacking in money, nor connections. A word to Anthony would have gotten Will a line of investors begging to take him on. The man knows a truly absurd amount of gentlemen with nothing better to do then find new entertainments to invest in. 

"I appreciate the offer, friend, but I don't need your charity." 

Simon scoffs, charity. Is that what a helping hand between friends is called nowheredays? 

"What happened to your honour?" 

"My honour?" Will turns on him, fierce. "Tell me, your Grace, whatever could be more honourable then taking care of one's family? Besides doing what needs to be done?" 

"Is that what you hope to tell Alice-?" 

"You cannot understand," Will hisses. "What a man must do to protect his family. You shall never understand, because you shall never _have_ a family!" 

It is as though the air turns cold. 

"I have a family," Simon says. He's had one since the day at Eton when Anthony had handed him a piece of candy and a smile.

Will shakes his head, "You don't have a family. You have a lover; it is not the same. You have an entertainment." 

"Watch yourself," Simon hisses, crowding into Will's space. 

Will smirks at him, and Simon notices how his muscles tense. He shakes his head and takes a step backwards. 

"You want me to fight you. You are furious at yourself, and you want to fight. I will not indulge you in this; you are my friend." 

They stare one another down, before Will turns away, "He is not an entertainment, I apologize for saying that. But you do not have a family, not as I do. You shall never have children, and cannot understand the need to care for them." 

Simon shakes his head, "That does not mean I do not understand the need for sacrifice for one's family. “ 


	6. Chapter 6

“I am confidant I could last a few rounds in a boxing ring,” Simon hears Anthony say as he walks into the Bridgerton’s parlour. 

“Well, that is certainly a match I would like to see,” Benedict says, standing up from where he’s sitting at the piano with his sister-oh, Francesca. Simon has not seen _that_ one since the first dinner he spent with the Bridgertons, back when Lady Danbury was still attempting to pair him up with Daphne. She’d been spending time in Bath with one aunt or another, Simon believes. 

“Ah, Simon,” Daphne gets up from where she is sitting on the sofa with the prince. Freidrich looks after her, seemingly lost without Daphne’s presence by his side. “Fran’s returned, as you can see.” 

“Your Grace,” Francesca bows lightly. “It was a rather sweet return. I thought four brothers enough, but returning to five is quite nice.” 

“Not five yet,” Benedict points out, patting the prince’s shoulder with brotherly familiarity. “But soon, eh?” 

“I desire nothing more,” Freidrich says, smiling at Daphne adoringly and making her blush prettily. 

“Simon!” Simon is distracted from the elder siblings by Hyacinth skipping over to him. “I heard my brother Anthony had been to Clyvedon before. When will _I_ be able to visit there as well?” 

“Hyacinth, allow the duke to find his seat before you trouble him,” Lady Violet says. 

“You are welcome to visit at any time,” Simon promises, and feels his heart warm by the squeal of delight Hyacinth issues. 

Francesca begins playing on the piano, and Simon allows himself to be drawn to sit in between Gregory and Hyacinth. 

“Sister, your pianoforte is quite impressive,” Daphne says, and then Francesca demands Colin join her and before Simon can quite parse out how it happens, Colin is singing and Anthony clapping in rhythm and he is being brought into a dance with Hyacinth. 

“Exactly how many horses do you have?” Hyacinth asks Simon when they’ve seated themselves once more. “May I have an extra one?” 

Simon raises an eyebrow, “Are you asking for me to buy you a horse, Hyacinth?” 

“Your horses are the prettiest, my brother Anthony says-” 

“I do believe the duke has heard enough,” Lady Violet tries. 

“Would a pony do?” Simon asks. He can give Hyacinth a pony, if that will bring the Bridgertons to Clyvden. There are a few horses there, that as far as Simon is concerned are Anthony’s horses. So adding ponies for his sister makes rather a lot of sense. 

Hyacinth laughs, “I could not fathom-” 

Simon picks up a piece of paper, and carefully shows Hyacinth and Gregory how to fold it into the shape of a horse. He does not look, but he feels Anthony’s eyes on him as he works. 

“Now, here’s the trickly one, and-there.” 

Greogry’s nose wrinkles, “You do realize it’s only made of paper?” 

Anthony snorts. 

“Is it?” Simon frowns at the horse, before nickering at Greogry, moving the paper horse under Gregory’s nose. 

“Now, show us how that is done,” Anthony requests. He leans down next to the sofa, hand on Gregory’s shoulder. 

The children laugh and groan as they attempt to recreate the horse, and Simon watches Anthony gently and carefully assist them while Francesca and Colin play yet another tone, and Daphne dances with her prince while Benedict does the same with his mother. 

_I want this_ , Simon suddenly thinks. _I want to be part of this always_. 

* 

"You're drunk." 

Simon blinks, and looks up. Is he drunk? He is not sure. The chairs and tables of the club are spinning, should they be doing that? Simon has some idea that that it _is_ rather odd, but he is not quite sure why. 

"How much have you drunk?" 

Benedict is spinning as well. That's rather odd, Benedict cannot usually hover over the ground, can he? Perhaps Anthony can. As Anthony is an angel, it _would_ be well within his rights to fly. 

"Right, then, come along." 

Simon yelps when he's suddenly away from the table. He feels his legs on the floor, and closes his eyes before he can heave on the floor. 

Next time he opens his eyes he's not in the same room. Instead, he is in the restroom, seated on the fainting sofa. Things are still moving in odd directions, such as the mirror which seems to be dancing with the candle. Hmm. That is rather odd, is it not? 

"He won't tell me how much he drank." 

"That's because he is not drunk," Another voice says. "He has taken opium." 

It's Anthony. Simon smiles and reaches out. Tony! He loves Tony. 

"Also absinthe," Anthony says, and then there are fingers in Simon's hair. “You took absinthe, did you not?” 

How can Anthony tell? Simon's lover is so very smart. 

Simon does not have much time to marvel over it, because suddenly he's up again and is being moved. But it's Anthony holding him this time so he doesn't mind. He rests his head on Anthony's shoulder and watches the beautiful dancing of the stars as he's dragged through the streets. 

Next time Simon opens his eyes, the world has stopped dancing. He's staring up at the ceiling of his bedroom, feeling the soft sheets under his naked limbs. Bile rises in his gut and he groans, turning and- 

"In here," A soft voice says, and a basin is placed under his eyes. 

Grateful, Simon retches into the basin. Groaning, he rubs his soar eyes, acid in his throat, his head swimming and stomach rumbling. 

"Anymore?" 

Simon shakes his head, "Not at the moment." 

"Lay down, then," Anthony says quietly. "Go on, there’s a good lad." 

Simon manages to lay back down and looks at Anthony as the man places the basin down. He likes it when Anthony calls him a good lad. It very nearly makes him believe that he is one. He wonders sometimes what that says of him, but prefers to keep such speculation in the dark reaches of his mind. 

Anthony sits down on the bed and draws Simon's head into his lap, placing a palm over Simon's forehead. 

"I did not know you were in the club," Simon says, finding it hard to speak clearly behind a rough throat. 

"I was not," Anthony replies, rubbing circles gently over Simon's chest and caressing his rough hair. "Benedict found you. He sent word to me, I came. You spent the time staring at the ceiling in the rest room, talking of dancing candles." 

"Ah." 

Anthony sighs, "You have not indulged in opium since you returned to London." 

Simon winces, remembering a time in Oxford when his father's death was looming and he had dulled his mind and passionate feelings with the drugs. Not even Anthony's presence had been enough to stop him from indulging in such things, nor Anthony’s disappointment and fury. 

That was something he had learned, back then, that even the greatest of loves cannot save one from the dangers of his own mind and heart. 

"Will you tell me what has happened?" 

Simon thinks for a moment. Why had he behaved so? 

"Your family, being around them...it was as though I had been blind all my life and suddenly could see. I never knew how wonderful it was, how right it would feel, to be surrounded by such warmth and love." 

Anthony nods, "It is magnificent...but why should it make you sad?" 

"I was not sad. I was angry." 

"Angry?" 

"Angry and jealous," Simon confesses. "Of you, of what you had. I want that. I want a family, Anthony. And it is not fair, that I do not have it. That I do not the love of a mother, the love of a father to hold on to after his passing. I do not have siblings to share the burden with. And I have never thought...that it was...." 

"That it was as wonderful as I told you," Anthony nods. 

"There is a part of me that hates you, Tony. That despises you," Simon says. "Sometimes when I hear you mourn your father, I hate you. For having a father worth mourning." 

Simon closes his eyes. 

"Is that despicable, Anthony?" 

Anthony continues to caress him gently, and then says, "No. It is not. It is perfectly natural. And I swear to you that I will do all that is in my power to ensure that you never again find yourself without a family. And you shan't." 

* 

He knows something very, very bad is about to happen when the door to the tea room opens and not one, not two, but three Bridgertons come strolling in. Daphne, the Dowager, and Hyacinth. 

Bringing Hyacinth as well shows that this business is for him, not Anthony, who sits besides him (they are going over Cliveden and Aubery Hall's finances together). The family has learned quick enough that if they wish to achieve something from Simon, sending _that_ particular young lady is the quickest way about it. 

"Have I done something, do you think?" Simon asks Anthony in a conspiratorial tone. 

"Not that I can think of," Anthony puts his papers down and raises his hand to Daphne, drawing her into the sofa next to him. "Daphne?" 

"Of course his Grace has done nothing wrong," Daphne says soothingly as Hyacinth jumps straight onto Simon's lap. 

"Hyacinth!" The Dowager hisses. "What sort of behaviour is this?" 

Simon grins, unable to stop himself, "It is quite all right, madam. Hyacinth. What may I do for you?" 

The young girl turns on his lap so she may face him, and declares, "We have decided that the Season ending ball should occur at Hastings House!" 

Anthony's mouth opens, and he looks up at his mother, "Really, Mother?" 

The Dowager smiles, seeming rather uncomfortable, "It was not my suggestion, I assure you." 

"It will look good for you, Simon," Daphne says, making it very clear who’s idea it _was_. "You have not been the most present in the Season. You only came to, oh, seven events? It is not enough, not nearly enough. But should you host the closing ball, I am sure Lady Whistledown would consider-" 

"Daphne, I am not sure what it was that I did that made you think that I give a single care for the Lady Whistledown, but whatever it might be, I must know. So I may stop it." 

Daphne smiles gently and says, "We know you do not care for Lady Whistledown. But you _are_ the Duke, and other then the members of Court you are the highest ranked noble in London at the moment. It is expected of you." 

Hyacinth's pats Simon's head, motioning to him to redo her hair ribbon. He moves to obey, catching Anthony hiding a smile behind his hand. And yes, yes, Simon knows fully well that he has been thoroughly whipped by the young girl, but she is Anthony's _sister_. Should he not save Simon here? 

"Perhaps it _would_ be expected of me," Simon says as he ties Hyacinth's ribbon. "Were I wed. But as it is, I have no wife nor sister nor mother to play hostess for such an event." 

"But that's the wonderful thing!" Daphne jumps up. "I shall play hostess for you. I have never done so, and should practice for when I will have a household of my own. Do you not think so, Mama?" 

The Dowager smiles rather tiredly, "Yes, dearest," and then turned to Simon. "I will help her, of course. It would cement our families’ friendships and closeness in the eyes of the ton." 

"Must be cement this friendship?" 

"Yes," Hyacinth says sternly. "You are part of our family. We are about to get a prince for a brother. I want a duke as well!" 

A stunned silence envelops the room. Simon sits stiffly, Anthony shrinking backwards into his sofa. Daphne puts her hand on the Dowager's shoulder and the youngest Bridgerton looks back and forth between her brother, mother, sister and Simon, and bites her lip, upset. 

"Did I say something wrong?" She asks, voice quiet. 

"No, dearest," The Dowager says gently, and moves to raise her daughter from Simon's lap. "You said nothing wrong, you are a very wise girl indeed. Why don't you go play with your brother?" 

"But, Mama-" 

" _Now_ , Hyacinth. We will speak later, yes?" 

Daphne takes her youngest sister’s hand, “Come, sister. Shall we play marbles with Gregory?” 

"Noooo, sister, please..." Hyacinth's voice trails off as she is pulled out of the room by Daphne. 

Simon swallows. He quickly looks at Anthony, seeing that he's leaning forward and hiding his face in his hands. It reminds Simon of how Anthony had looked when he came to Hastings House the morning after their reunion at Daphne’s first ball, and he has to hold himself back from jumping forward and taking Tony into his arms. 

The Dowager's presence prevents that. It prevents him from even giving Anthony more than a fleeting look before turning to the papers on his table. 

What will the Dowager say? What shall she do? Simon knows she loves her son desperately, but love is one thing. Acceptance is another. Accepting that your son is a sodomite...Simon is not sure any mother could do it. 

Lady Danbury surely has not (she is not Simon's mother, but she is the closest to it that he has), had never truly accepted it. She had spent years attempting to pry Simon apart from Anthony. Trying to find a woman for him to marry, making no secret that she hoped a wife would disabuse him from seeking Anthony’s presence. 

Should the Dowager attempt to do that, Simon is afraid she might have more success. Tony adores his mother, and respects her greatly as well. Should she order him to abandon Simon, would he confirm to her desires? 

He tries to tell himself that he is safe from Bow Street, at least. Lady Violet cannot inform on him without placing her son under suspicion-they are well known to be close friends. But she is a cunning woman and Simon does not doubt that should she want, she would find a way to destroy him. 

"Anthony." 

The Dowager's voice is soft and beseeching, and Simon chances a look. Lady Violet is walking towards her son, and hovers above the sofa, hand reaching out to touch Anthony's shoulder, but Tony flinches slightly away. 

"My dearest, my sweet boy," Lady Violet whispers, and sits down gently on the sofa. Simon clenches his hands together, trying hard to stop them from shaking. "Look at me, Anthony." 

Anthony shakes his head. 

"Please, my darling," Lady Violet turns to Simon, and Simon freezes. He did not want to be caught looking at Tony. Lady Violet smiles sadly at him, eyes shining with tears. She holds herself tall and strong, secure and safe. 

"How long have you known?" Anthony asks quietly, and Simon pulls himself backwards, trying to shrink into himself. He almost wants to yell at Anthony, to tell him not to say it, to keep quiet and perhaps they can escape. 

Lady Violet places a hand on her son's neck, "It took me longer to parse it out then it should have. I have been sure for a few weeks now-" 

"P-p-please," Simon begs, suddenly unable to take the fear anymore, barely noticing his stutter. "P-please do not ask m-me to abandon your s-s-son." 

"Abandon him?" Lady Violet's eyes widen. She gets up, and Simon freezes as she comes towards him. He prepares himself for a strike, or something of the sort, and is stunned into silence when all she does is lean forward and kisses his forehead. "I would never ask you to abandon him. Why would I, if he loves you and you him?" 

"Mother," Anthony chokes out. 

He looks up from his hands, looking wrecked. 

"Oh, Anthony," Lady Violet sighs and moves back to her son. She sits by him and holds him, placing his head on her chest, as she must have done when Anthony was a child. Lady Violet caresses Tony's hair back. "My love, my darling, how have I failed you so much that you thought you must keep this from me?" 

Anthony does not reply, simply wraps his arms around his mother and holds her close. 

"Listen to me, my son. From the moment you were born I have only wanted one thing for you. That you shall be happy, and a man I could take pride in-" 

"How could you be proud of me?" Anthony whispers, and Simon feels tears running down his cheek. "I am a disgrace. I shall never provide our family with an heir." 

Lady Violet shakes her head and kisses Anthony's head, "No, my love. That does not matter. I wanted you to be married and have an heir not because it is your duty, but because love is the most beautiful thing, and brings the most happiness." 

She looks up at Simon and gives him a soft smile. Simon cannot bear it, and looks away. 

"But I see now that that was unnecessary. Simon, you love my son, yes?" 

Simon swallows, and stands up, "M-more then I love my own self, madam." 

The Dowager's smile turns bright and pleased, "Yes, I can see. You are so very afraid. But you mustn't be. I shall do nothing to stand in your and my son's way." 

Simon nods, "I... I can barely fathom it." 

"Yes, I see. Anthony," Lady Violet kisses Anthony's head again, gently and lovingly. "I cannot pretend this is what I wanted for you. I wish for my children to have the easiest way of things as possible. And this is not easy. Our world is not fair to men such as you. But this is who you are, and I will do everything in my power to ensure that you and Simon remain together for as long as you wish." 

Simon closes his eyes. 

"I don't...I don't understand, Mother," Anthony whispers. "Are you not-are you not angry with me? Are you not disappointed?" 

"'No', Anthony. I am not disappointed. I am not angry. Oh, how I wish your father were here. He would be able to explain to you, I think, the love we bear you. And the only thing that brings me shame and anger is that I have failed you as a mother, that you could not come to me," Lady Violet wipes her eyes and takes a deep breath. "We will speak of this alone soon, my love. But now, there is the Season ending ball to consider." 

Anthony peels himself away from his mother. Tears are streaking down his face, eyes red and bloated. He hugs the pillow next to him, curling into himself, looking as though he were a child. 

"Why..." He croaks out, "Do you want Simon to host the Season ending ball?" 

"As I said," The Dowager stands up. "I think it would do both of us good for our family and the duke's to be united in the eyes of the ton. It is known that Simon will not marry, and known why to many. I believe if you are to be unwed as well, and the two of you spend so long in each other's company and lands, it would look suspicious. But should it be established in the minds of the ton that Simon has been taken in by us as an honorary Bridgerton of sorts, then I believe it would arouse much less questions and speculation. Should Simon choose to spend his time at Aubrey Hall. Or perhaps Anthony in Clyvden. As an honorary member of our family, it is very good and proper that we should not leave him to his own devices for long, all alone and far away." 

Anthony stares up at his mother for a moment, eyes wide, and then says carefully, "And... when I do not marry?" 

Lady Violet waves a hand as though to dismiss her son's concerns, "Oh, you are such a wonderful brother, Anthony. And you have three unmarried sisters and three brothers to watch over. You are the head of your household, and what a large household it is. Can you truly be expected to start a household of your own? And when your brothers marry and have children of thier own-good god that will just add to it!" 

"Dowager," Simon says softly. "I do believe...that you are the most dangerous person in the ton." 

"Thank you, Simon, you are very kind," The Dowager replies, wiping stray tears off her eyes. "Now, I shall go and speak with Daphne, to begin preparations for the ball. Simon, I assume Hastings House would be open for us whenever we shall need it?" 

Simon nods, rather in awe. 

"Good, good," Lady Violet nods. "Well. I shall leave you now. I expect you both at dinner tonight." 

She sweeps out of the room. 

As soon as the door closes behind the Dowager, Anthony scrambles off the sofa and collapses onto Simon's lap. Simon closes his eyes as he is enveloped into a hug, resting his head on Anthony's chest in rather the same manner that Anthony had rested on his mother. Anthony holds him close, strongly but still tenderly. 

"Are you well? Did-you stuttered," Anthony whispers into Simon's ear. 

"I was frightened," Simon admits, breathing in the familiar scent of Anthony's smell. "I thought your mother..." 

"I know," Anthony sniffs. "I cannot believe she...accepted me." 

"Perhaps we should have anticipated it," Simon says. "Your mother loves you dearly. And so does your sister. And your brother. And Benedict never cared." 

He had reacted rather violently when he first found out, though to be fair what other reaction was a brother _meant_ to have when he climbs into his elder brother's dormitory and witnesses said brother engaged in activities no brother should ever witness? 

The five punches he managed to get in before Anthony had pulled him off Simon were rather appropriate, given that Benedict, only fifteen, had rather thought Anthony was being _hurt_. 

"Anthony, this is good," Simon says. "Something rather good has just occurred. Though I am not quite sure I am pleased with the prospect of hosting a ball." 

Tony waves his hand in dismissal, "Do not concern yourself over that. Daphne and my mother will have everything well in hand. Christ, Simon!" 

"Yes," Simon mumbles. "A rather more...dramatic day then I first had in mind." 

After Anthony and Simon calm themselves, and Anthony splashes himself with water it becomes clear that the two cannot stay in the parlour for the rest of thier lives. It is time to face the family. Simon walks after Anthony out of the room, and they follow the sounds of laughing children outside. 

Daphne is seated on one of the swings, watching Gregory, Daphne and a couple of other children chase one another across the lawns. The children's clothing show that they are of a lower class then the Bridgerton younglings, probably children of maids and the sort. 

"Sister," Anthony says quietly, and Daphne nearly jumps up and holds her brother close. 

"Anthony," Daphne breathes out. "My brother. Are you well?" 

"Tired," Anthony says honestly. "I did not know that you knew." 

"We should have spoken of it before," Daphne says, nodding. "But it's going to be all right now, Anthony. You and Simon shall all be all right." 


	7. Chapter 7

During the next few weeks, Hastings House is entirely taken over by the Bridgerton ladies. There is rarely a moment when there is not at least one of them present. If it isn't Daphne, organizing the ball, then it's Violet taking charge while her daughter is out galivanting with her prince. And if it isn't either of them, then it's Hyacinth brought over by her nanny to ride Simon's horses or seclude herself in the library to read his many books of history. And if not any of them, then Eloise will make her way to Hastings House to speak to her brother. Benedict and Colin as well make their way to Hastings House for the same purpose, and bring Gregory along with them. 

So really, it's the entire Bridgerton clan that is taking over Hastings House (it's just that the ladies seem to take up more...space. They have a presence to them, those ones). 

And Anthony...Anthony does not move from Hastings House. 

He does not leave to return home, has not slept at the Bridgerton home for nearly three weeks. He only goes to the club when Benedict comes to drag him there, and only goes walking outside when his mother or sisters demand he get fresh air.

Most of the time Anhtony is secluded in the north library, the smaller one in Hastings House, pouring over papers of  Clyvden and Aubrey Hall businesses. It takes Simon a while to figure out that the man is organizing a joint farming project between their two holdings.

“It will help explain why you’ll spend time at Aubrey,” Anthony says, brimming with excitement, when Simon asks him what has caused him such distraction the past week. 

“And you at Clyvden, yes?” Simon replies, hugging Anthony from behind where he sits in the leather chair. “Or am I to travel to you while you lounge around in comfort?”

Anthony grins, tilting his head to allow Simon access to his neck, “Aubrey Hall is where our family is.”

Simon freezes, then goes back to nuzzling Anthony’s neck. 

“Yes, it Is, is it not?”

Tony turns so that the two of them look each other in the eye. He puts a hand on Simon’s cheek and says, “How does it feel, to be in a family?”

Simon thinks for a moment, and then replies honestly, “Warm.”

Tony smiles, so bright, more carefree than Simon has ever seen him, “Yes, it does.”

*

They all know now, every member of the  Bridgerton clan. Even young Gregory and little Hyacinth. The two youngest siblings do not seem to find anything off in the situation, as this is simply  another sibling becoming attached to a man, but Simon feels confident that after a few strict conversations with their mother and eldest brother they understand not to whisper a word of this to a soul outside of the family.

Simon is rather touched to be included in that.

Benedict of course already knew; Daphne had discovered ii months before. Colin takes Simon aside one afternoon and informs him that should he do anything to harm Anthony, Colin would challenge him to a duel.

“Should I ever harm your brother,” Simon replies, amused yet touched. “I assure you he would be perfectly capable of seeking his own vengeance.”

“Still-be warned.”

And Eloise says, while they are playing a game of chess outside in the garden, “Perhaps  _ you _ shall tell me, brother. How does one become pregnant?”

Simon groans, “Good Lord, Eloise, no. Not you as well.”

“Can a man become pregnant, should he be with another man? I know that it is a man who causes a pregnancy, because I heard a maid wondering what man shamed Miss Thompson-”

Simon’s forehead hits the table.

*

At the ball, Daphne dances only with her prince, one dance after the other with graceful elegance. Simon dances with nearly every young lady that comes his way. There has been less and less attempts from vicious mothers to push their daughters on him, and since the Season is now over there are no expectations of new betrothals.

Next Season shall be a new challenge, Simon suspects.

Anthony dances with Eloise (before she disappears along with Benedict. Simon keeps his peace when he watches them slip out one after the next) and his mother as well as some other ladies. Simon watches him as much as he dares from the corner of his eye, and finds himself watched as well when he takes his turn on the dance floor. He aches to dance with Anthony, but as Daphne laughs in her brother's arms and Violet gently kisses Simon's cheek as their dance ends, Simon finds the ache lessen.

He might not have the openness Daphne enjoys with her prince, but he has the acceptance of his magnificent family. And he thinks it might just be enough.

*

The Season is finally over. The Bridgertons, Prince Freidrich and Simon stand in front of the Bridgerton home to bid Colin farewell on his trip. He smiles, clearly nervous but excited as well, as his horse begins taking him away. The Bridgertons all wave as one, Daphne on the arm of her prince, as the third son of their household leaves them.

“Well, this is it then,” Anthony says quietly, hugging his sister Fran to his side. “Colin is finally spreading his wings.”

“Are you jealous, brother?” Francesca asks. She’s perceptive, that one. 

“What of, Fran?” 

“Only that you could not go on a trip yourself,” Francesca points out.

“Oh, I have enough adventure to last a lifetime right here,” Tony squeezes his sister close. 

“So,” Lady Violet walks over, wiping a stray tear off her cheek. “We must plan for the summer.”

Simon raises an eyebrow, “How so, Dowager?”

“Violet. How many times must I tell you to call me that?” Lady Violet chides gently. 

“As you wish, Violet.”

Tony lets his sister go while the younger siblings begin dispersing back into the house, “Shall we not go to Aubrey Hall, Mother?”

“Not I,” Violet replies. “The Prince wishes to introduce Daphne to his family, and naturally I must travel with her.”

“Will you take the younger ones with you?” Anthony asks.

“Francesca has  spent the summer at Bath, she needs the calm of Aubrey Hall this summer. Gregory and Hyacinth are far too young to travel so far,” Violet begins counting down her children. “But Eloise wishes to come, and Lady  Featherington has agreed that we take Penelope with us as well. The poor child needs the break from her family after her father’s passing. And Benedict has elected to remain in the city under Mr. Graville’s instruction.”

“ So it shall just be me with the three youngest at Aubrey Hall this summer?”

“And Simon, of course,” Lady Violet adds smoothly.

“Oh, yes,” Anthony replies, brightly, and smiles at Simon with love. “Simon as well.”


End file.
